Leaving A Trail of Beauty

We all have an inherent need to be known. We're created for community. Camaraderie. Kinship. Kindred spirits .  Whatever you call it and whatever personality type or Enneagram number you may be; none of us were created to be perpetual loners. I am an introvert (INFP) by design and find it difficult to put myself out there, because extended periods of time with people, especially people I don't know very well wear me out.  I am your classic "drained by others" kind of gal. I  can  make small talk. I have lots of experience with it. But if I am forced to chat inanely for hours or for multiple events night after night, I come home emotionally, mentally, and physically blitzed--desiring my pajamas ( sounds like llamas ), a cup of tea, a blanket, and sometimes a dimly lit room. On the other hand, I  do  find myself lonely at times and longing to be known by someone, anyone, ( maybe not just anyone ) but you know what I mean. I seek to find that person who will ta

Any morning people out there? You know the type. They bounce out of bed with eager anticipation of what lies ahead, a smile already on their lips, words quick to follow. Coherent phrases, goals assembled, an agenda to be conquered. Or maybe you're more like this: you set the alarms on your phone . . . for 6:00, 6:05, 6:15, 6:20, 6:30, 7:00, then you hit the snooze on that last one until you absolutely have to stumble out of the bed, drag yourself to the coffee pot, and hope today you remembered to put the coffee beans in the grinder before dropping them directly into your favorite coffee mug. I fall somewhere in the middle of that second shot. I inherently am NOT a morning person. I admit I've missed all too many sunrises in favor of few more minutes communing with my pillow. I have made the mistake of putting unground coffee beans in the coffee maker, only to realize my morning brew has far less appeal if I'm expected to chew it. However, all joking aside, I am fi

Awakened early this morning with a combination of chaotic sounds drilling a veritable drum beat in my head. The bondage to coffee is awakening a beast within and the mixed tape tripping inside my brain simultaneously crows "Jesus, Name Above All Names" and Katy Perry's "Hot 'n Cold" , of all things. I try to squelch the second in favor of the first, all the while reminding myself whose I am and that fear need not be my master . . . again today. The sweat pours, I right myself on the only side that doesn't send shooting pains, and I am jarred into full consciousness with my heart in my throat and its wildly tapping an oddly mingled tempo. What is already true today? I am unemployed. I am 52. My son did not graduate last night with his classmates. My daughters do not live under my roof anymore. I am an artist. I am divorced. I am in pain. Constant pain. I am still a believer in spite of all that threatens to cause me to stray. I am sinful. I am fallible.