Eyetooth

It’s funny: some days every funny’s funny. I was so tickled by two last night that I cut them out and glued them in my journal. One of the strips struck me hard this morning after I’d slept off my first impression. Frame #1: A kid calmly rolls up his sleeves for his turn at show and tell. Frame #2: He puts his face in his hands, as if to prepare for some feat. Frame #3: He juggles his eyes and teeth. Frame #4: He’s sitting in the classroom corner wearing a dunce cap.

Rachel and Shai have taught me that part of celebrating week two of the Omer is examining boundaries. Some of my boundaries are my bedtime, my early morning time, and my exercise. I overthrew them all, pretty much, to get this site up this past month.  I do that every now and then.  I’m like Lio, dialing up my eyes and teeth if necessary to satisfy my urge to create and my perfectionism that joins it.

My creativity comes best as a fruit of cultivating my half-acre of spirit, soul, and body.  I’m happier that way.  When I go beyond myself, I’m deluding myself.

Personal relations, too. Two people have misunderstood me for some time, but I knew I could do nothing about it. Both came to me this past month and came away (I hope) with something new to think about. I had no choice but to be patient in both situations – to recognize boundaries in both situations; nevertheless, patience and an adherence to boundaries paid off.

I had two other situations in which my enthusiasm blinded me to boundaries and caused me some embarrassment over the past month.

I’m more conscious than ever of needing to pace myself for the future.  There’s a few things I’d like be in the position to do in a few years, and I’ll need good habits of sleep, diet, and exercise to lead a long life in which to do them.

Boundaries qua boundaries fight against the essence of creativity.  But, in another sense, are not creativity and boundaries the inspiration and expiration of a single pair of lungs?

Stay. Steady, and stay. The things I’d give my eyeteeth for aren’t that cheap.

I’ve selected Robert Lowell’s “Eye and Tooth” for my celebration of SoloPoMo.