132 Wishes and Thanks
What a lucky guy I am! Even in the coldest week on record, I’m surrounded by warmth. I have a wife and daughter who love me. I spent all week receiving thanks and best wishes on my birthday. I just finished directing operations for the best music festival Lancaster has ever seen and I’m headed for a humdinger tonight: Frozen Harbor Music Festival in Baltimore. Thank you, family and friends and strangers, who made my life so beautiful this week. I’ll do my best to live up to it!
I spent my week cleaning out closets, organizing my office, painting the kitchen and creating a giant collage. They could all serve as analogies for my state of being. It’s a great time for me to sort what’s important, rake away the debris and sow a fresh plan for spring. I can reflect on an object and say Trash, Totem or Time Capsule. The heart of our home deserved rejuvenation and a fresh coat. A new light at the center is next. The collage is where I transform tokens from events into totems. They give me power. I do lead a charmed life after all.
Being an event producer makes it difficult to quantify time besides the start, run and end of an event. I’m constantly planning, projecting, revising, and anticipating so that when the moment comes, I can fully be in it. It’s like falling in love. Thinking about it makes you miserable. When you’re in it, little else seems to matter. Time shrinks to with them or without them. Space becomes where you share and where you’re apart. Prior to Lancaster Roots and Blues, everyone was asking Rich and I who to see or who were our favorites. He said it best when he said, “It’s like being asked which of your children is your favorite. You love them all in unique ways and as a whole.” My life makes me measure time the way lovers and parents do; there is no start or stop.
So I like tasks. When my head is swimming with a jillion details leading up to 9pm on a certain Friday, I like tasks with defined parameters. Paint this room. Shovel this driveway. You will see immediate results and feel a sense of satisfaction. When I was a teacher and a school year was beginning or ending, I was grateful to have a lawn to mow. The jillion details surrounding, “Have I prepared? Am I reaching them? Have I done my job?” could be neatly trimmed and drowned out by an hour’s roar of the mower.
So some boxes went to the curb this week. I can see my desk again. The collage is 4’x10’ and hanging in the music room. That’s 40 square feet of totems plus your well-wishes to cocoon me from the world. My kitchen is cozy. I love you too.