I taught at my arts center in the Summer Camp program all of July. It was invigorating and healing, energy giving and energy taking. It was a welcome relief from days of grieving with no seeming purpose to the grief anymore. It was a getting on with it and a keeping up with it.
I have missed writing and making sense of my thoughts by organizing them into somewhat inadequate words that sound, even to me, like wallowing.
Seems like I can only do one creative sort of activity at a time, if I teach art for hours everyday, I don't write. Nor do I cook very well. Teaching uses everything up.
I take some pleasure in cooking, not in following recipes, that is why I hate holiday cooking. I call it stress cooking. I like listening to fresh ingredients and then following my bliss. I am just beginning to do that kind of cooking again, after Daddy passed in late February I could not really cook for a long time, to get through it I went back to cooking the comfort food sort of meals I made for my children while they were growing up. I am finally recovering the blissful end of the day cooking.
Now we deal with the settling of Daddy's affairs. Some of those affairs we had to deal with right away, like taxes. And what is this "we" stuff? Mainly it was one of my brothers and one of my sisters. And all of them but me have been there physically to settle things.
I am feeling the need, finally, to go back and physically touch those things too. And that feeling turns on a dime.
