Crystal Marie, Deeper

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There is an essay underneath this essay that I’ve been wrestling with since my last post, when I claimed the next excerpt for the book would be coming soon to premium subscribers. That was July 7th, nearly a month ago. Okay fine, it was an entire month ago.

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I’ve been laboring over a post the last few days that began as a quick post with some light observations over how out of practice I am at the part of my career that involves getting myself out there in person after the forced shift to working from home and teaching online that came with the start of the pandemic in March of 2020. And now has morphed into the subject matter I’ve been outlining for the next excerpt of my book.

When was the last time? crystalmarie.substack.com

When was the last time you changed these sheets? Hahahaha haha haha ha haha ha ha When was the last time you sat and listened to the wind rustling the leaves of the tree outside your window? Or the rioting of birds singing their domination to the squirrels weaving themselves in and out of its branches? When was the last time you took delight in a three year old’s lively chatter beginning to make sense of abstract concepts like electricity when the power is knocked out by the storm?

The Glass crystalmarie.substack.com

There are people who will say the glass is half empty, with a Mona Lisa smile, full well knowing they partook of the contents of that glass. Life flowing over the rim into their wide open mouth. Every last drop enjoyed to the fullest. Satisfaction slowly running down their chin. Not even bothering to wipe. Evidence of a life well lived. There are people who will say the glass is half full, because they stopped to fill it. Rewarded in seeing how it nurtured and fed and inspired.

Grief and Life crystalmarie.substack.com

I tried to make a quick ad out of this image this morning, with some quip about how dads love art classes too. Because 1) they do and 2) ahem, trying to run a business here. But when I tried to write, the words got stuck and I started to cry. And I couldn't stop crying. And somehow it's the end of the day and I. am. still. crying. I texted a friend that I was inexplicably grieving, heavy and deep. Inexplicably because I thought I was over it. But grief doesn't care.