A day of painting

One of the constraints of this home that C.C. and I have created together is that it is too small for his son and daughter as well as my two daughters. It was impacting his relationship -- both with his kids and me. There wasn't enough space for them to come and stay, or to even feel like they could just drop in. So, we decided a change was in need.

A week ago, we closed the deal on a new home.

Which means, packing.

Being a compulsive sort, I decided it would be best to start packing now. Our possession date is October 17, the movers will come October 25 so that we can have time to paint before moving in. If I start packing now, I won't be crunched to get it all done in just a few days before the move.

Great idea. Except, I'm the only one who thinks so.

"Remember, I've got my regular Saturday golf game and then I'm off for three days golf with 'the boys'," he told me Saturday morning when I asked him about packing that day.

Hmmm. D'ya think you could give up one day of golf to help pack? I thought,figurative hands on my hips, jaw set in a defiant sulk. The girls were off doing their thing, I had the house to myself.

My mind was a tornado packed fury as I sorted through laundry. "Fine. I'll do it all like I always do. I'd rather be out doing things I want to do but how will the packing get done? What is wrong with everyone?"

Fortunately, a friend from Choices dropped over for a quick visit before I got too mired in my martyrdom.

"Do you want to live amongst boxes for a month?" she asked.

Not particularly.

Golf season in these mountain climes is short. C.C.'s trip with the boys is an annual occurrence. They spend three days in the mountains playing their own version of a mini-Ryder's Cup. Done it for years. Saturday golf is also a summer tradition. I usually love my Saturday morning's alone. Take the dogs for a walk. Clean house. Do some writing. Have coffee with a friend. My choices are limitless and I love the freedom.

So why such a snit this Saturday morning?

Well, the packing does have to get done. But, does it have to be done to my timetable? My design?

Not really.

If I choose to pack, can I do it without murderous thoughts roiling through my head? Can I do it without smashing plates and flying knives? What's the point of doing it and being angry? What on earth am I angry about?

Good question -- well.... I'm angry that nobody else is taking this packing gig seriously. I'm angry that everyone is doing what they want to do and I'm scuffling about in the muck of making myself do something today that I don't want to do.

What would I rather do? Be embroiled in anger or embraced in love?

How would I like to spend my Saturday?

Painting. Haven't painted in months. My 'To Do' lists have been interfering with my self-nurturing.

"But the packing....?", my martyrs mind cried. "And don't forget, you're mad at C.C."

"Hush," my loving self replied. "You get to choose how you go through your day. Do you want to cling to anger, or do you want to sink into your peace of mind and revel in the joys of doing what you love?"

I covered the dining room table and floor with plastic. Pulled my easel into the room, hauled out my paints, set up a canvas and picked up a brush.

What a beautiful way to spend my day. Surrounded by colour and form. Doing something I love. Surrendering my ire and falling in love all over again with me, my life, with C.C., my creativity, my world.

The question is: Are you prepared to give up your anger to fall in love? Are you ready to surrender your high horse to riding blissfully on peace of mind? Are you ready to choose peace and harmony over discord and anger?