What do you do?

Hello there.  What’s your week like so far?  What are you doing with yourself?  Are you working, out all day at your job? What is that like? Where do you go? In a school or a shop, caring for others, driving?  Are you at home with children, spending your hours building wooden train tracks or blanket dens? Do you enjoy what you do?  Do you feel it’s a part of who you are or do you find it’s the way you earn your bread but it isn’t key to how you see yourself?

Do you find it’s the first thing people ask you, what do you do?  I think it gets complicated.  I do lots of different things, and I want to open a window on myself to show people when I meet them, so we can understand each other.  I want to see their story too. But then it becomes a long, convoluted rendition and I can see that they didn’t want to know that much, they wanted a label, so they can organise and sort me and file me away.

What do you do?

This is my window, a glimpse.

I write poems.  I dance in the kitchen.  I talk to the cats.  I grow herbs.  I watch the bees as they work in the garden.  I teach.  I practice healing therapies.  I journal.  I drink peppermint tea or smoky, brown coffee.  I watch the moon and stars.  I bake, I like simple and uncomplicated cakes, wholesome, that fill the house with their fragrance and draw people out of their rooms to see what’s cooking.  I sing in the car and talk to myself.  I love playing crazy golf and picking up stones on the beach.  I overwork.  I day dream.  I like stories.  I like to feel the ground beneath my feet and imagine the people who were here before me.  When I’m tired I bury myself under a blanket on the sofa and watch DVD box sets or browse through Facebook.  I dream about traveling and about having a huge kitchen with a scrubbed pine table where people are always dropping in for tea, to talk or pull some cards.  I love to walk.  I love the rhythm of my body and the timeless sense of moving across the land.  I love water, to swim or paddle.  For some everyday magic I love bubbles, blown in a shiny, glistening crowd, dancing across the grass and over the hedge.

 

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