Second Helpings

Spontaneity

Kåre Enga in Montana mentioned in his comment on my last entry that this blog is now eight years old. That is staggering enough, but there was a blog before this one which was limited to five hundred entries and was born in 2005. I'm not sure whether to feel proud, grateful or scared. Ten years of blogging and I can still remember the day I decided to make my first entry. I guess still having a memory is something to be thankful for, but the fact that ten years have just flown by is a sobering thought and I dare not even contemplate another ten years.

They have been ten quite traumatic years in ways I could never have anticipated. Of course there have been high days and happy events, but the balance is definitely more on the negative side although some may argue that depends on our attitude towards life events. I confess I'm no born optimist.

However, I am grateful to have a record of the last ten years as I don't keep diaries and couldn't possibly have stored the memories in my limited brain capacity. I look back and see how often I played the 'what if' game and wished I could go back and change my path in life.

I no longer do that. I have reached the stage where I couldn't imagine going back and wouldn't want to relive the painful and heartbreaking events I've had to deal with. Even if I could alter the path my life has taken, some things are a given and unavoidable and there's no point dwelling on what might have been. These days I try to accept my lot, be grateful for what I do have and not think too much about the future. It's not easy.

I have a passion for notebooks and feel saddened by the fact I have to resist acquiring any more as I own far too many already, some pristine, some half filled and some complete. My latest is a lovely, hand crafted notebook kindly gifted by alfred booth, wanbli ska which is so beautiful I could not possibly contemplate writing anything trivial or flippant on its pages. I decided I would confine it to the finest of little philosophies I come across. The other week I noticed the following words in a shop window and thought them worthy of copying into my precious little book. ' A life without spontaneity is merely a collection of what ifs. ' It hit a chord.

It's been a trying and very mundane start to the year with hubby's immobility and the responsibility of running a home virtually single handed. But he is improving slowly which has allowed me some freedom and opportunities to break away from the humdrum. This week I've managed to go out for a meal with my new writing group friends, spent a lovely day in my favourite town of Newark with special friends and tomorrow will be attending a Knitters and Natters session at a new shop which has opened in my home town. No big deals, but such a change to do some different things.

I have decided to try and make spontaneity my key word. Having an immaculate show home ( which I haven't) is meaningless when you think about it. Having a perfect, well kept garden ( which I haven't) is pointless when you analyse it and striving for a skinny, well toned and healthy body ( which I haven't) is ultimately a waste of time.

In theory I shall try to seize the day as they say. If I feel like wasting a day geocaching, deciding to jump on a bus or train to see a friend or explore new territory, joining new groups to pursue things I enjoy or just being a blob for the day reading, watching films or crafting then I shall do it and not allow guilt to darken my door. There's too little time left to spend on looking back, suffering chores or bothering what other people think.

Sounds like a plan...as I said in theory.