Words are flying touching
My mind soothing my soul.
I can feel the invasion
A sensation warm and strong.
I stretch and stroke my body
Some parts of me badly calling
I hadn’t seen you there as quiet
as the desire that slowly grows.
I don’t hide nor do you fly
A message from eyes to eyes,
A moan, plea for mercy…
Here you are. Will you, please,
Release me ?
Tired body and used soul, require
I can only find in water burning
that soothes the body and also make
Tiny bubbles rising from my heavy
Are like fragments of pain that only
To go away but come again,
Adding their weight to my back I think
My tears flow along my cheeks yet they stay
Even their heat from my skin is
Inside of this warm cocoon
This word doesn’t qualify me at all. I am very far from being complete (who can call oneself really ‘complete’ anyway ?). However it makes sense in some parts of my life or at least in one of them.
The train of thoughts that lead me to the idea of completeness was triggered by two elements. The first one would be the concept of continuous improvement. This idea derives from my profession in IT (professional quirk) but here it applies on daily life moments. It means that each time I tackle a chore or something related to that, I try to make the situation at home at least one tad better than it was before. For instance when I do the washing up, I try to clean or tidy a little more than strictly what I just used. In an ideal world this would lead to a perfectly clean house but it is not the case, and the reason behind this is not the topic of this post.
The second element that influenced that thinking was Marie Kondo‘s book “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up”. That book changed my views on things that belong to the material sphere of the world and how we connect to our belongings. It made me question how my belongings influenced my mood, my soul. One idea of the book is “one (type of) thing goes to one single place” or “don’t create clutter”.
In the way I live, tea takes has a big importance (if you know me from somewhere then you probably already know that). I drink tea very often (unless my life is a mess). During the day I treat myself with several “tea rituals”. These moments are precious to me because they are all about me. A moment in which I take a step back. The ritual of the evening tea is even more important than the others. This one is almost like meditation at times.
However my evening tea ritual used to be incomplete. Indeed I used to prepare everything for this occasion, enjoy a quiet moment and then move on with the evening or go to bed… only to find the next morning that I had to wash and tidy everything. This fact struck me as wrong only the evening when I decided to clean everything before going to bed… and that I actually took pleasure from that.
How is it possible to take pleasure from washing a teapot and a cup ? Well this was strange to explain at first. Then the idea of completeness came to me (based on the two triggers mentioned above). I took pleasure from cleaning, washing and tidying because that made my ritual complete. Things were after my ritual just as they were before it. The change was then only inside of me. I felt better than just moments ago yet I had left no traces of my ritual anywhere. My well-being created no negative side-effects.
Moreover the time I took cleaning and tidying felt like an extension of my alone-time, my introspection time. It also allowed me to realize that I was lucky for having the time and the means to treat myself with a nice tea session. I think I can even say that my life would be even less complete without my tea rituals.
One of the reasons for my depression or anxiety is my lack of a life-style (yes, it may be strange but I have no idea what a suitable life-time would be for me, ab. so. lu. te. ly. no. i. dea. at. all). I am starting to believe or realize that with more completeness (and more tidying) my life would be closer to what I could call an actual life-style.
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Read Chapter One here. It’s been four years since Maria saw Eric last (see chapter one preview for that explosive meeting). Maria’s moved on. Right? Maria surveyed the destruction in the Thomlin kitchen. She rubbed her chest. The Thomlin name always made her ache. She tossed her hair. This was her first big job, she would not…
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