Evidence
One door opens...
Photo: the author
"Last weekend I was in a foul moood. I was cursed with a violent headache as a result of writing too long. The weather at this bleak time of year made everything ugly outside and the beginnings of spring could not be seen anywhere."
Cecil Beaton (1904 - 1980), Diaries, February 1973.
I keep an evidence journal. Not to prove I was right but to remind myself of how often I'm wrong. Because I don't know about you, but unless I write it down I tend to forget the number of times whatever I thought was going to happen didn't. Like a week ago when I was pretty sure everything was going to hell, it was all downhill from there, pass out the handbaskets. No, I didn't say anything at the time, I didn't want you to worry, but by Monday I was so utterly convinced of the dire state of affairs I was racing through the Kubler-Ross stages of it all at break-neck speed, right past denial and straight into full-blown rage. Tuesday as you might imagine was especially grim. Wednesday tried my patience. Thursday was a day full of things I didn't want to do, Friday had filled up with a long list of stuff to dread, and yet all of a sudden here I am on the other side of it thinking, what was the fuss about? And I write: "Week not as bad as predicted. Did not send snarky email. Did not quit job, give away possessions and move back to Ohio."
Life changes, of course, but I forget that it isn't always for the worse. It can be a nuisance though, especially this business about one door closing and another one opening down the hall. No one has much to say about that hall in between, do they. I'm sure you hear people all the time talk about how they used to be living on the street and turning tricks and sharing dirty needles and now they're a high-profile attorney or a brain surgeon or the CFO of a major non-profit bringing relief to millions of needy people all over the world or in New Orleans at least. What happened in that hallway? A friend who used to be a terrific mess showed up last night and he looks completely amazing and says he just got back from Paris, Milan, New York and Miami, and I think, wow, and I paid my bills with checks that didn't bounce and let a guy cut me off in traffic. We've both come such a long way, haven't we. We both have changed, how did that happen? Let me check the evidence, let me remind myself that I didn't think it would work out this way. I didn't think I would wind up feeling anywhere near as good as I feel today.
Merci, George. This is a great post reminding us all that this too shall pass.
And never Ohio. You can be in the boonies in Quebec.
XXXOOO,
Mme
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You are very kind, madame
Je me souviens.
Je t'embrasse
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Wow, haven't we all been there many times and survived (thank whomever)-you are a champ, always have been, always will be and you have executed those hallways just wonderfully. I, for one, would welcome you back to Ohio with open arms though. Absolutely love you.
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You are very kind.
And you've done marvelously well where you are.
Ohio clearly agrees with you.
And it's lucky to have you too!
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Love this post. So good to read this and so true.
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Nice photo…
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Thank you, kind sir.
It did occur to me that the door opening probably shouldn't be the one to the bathroom.
But I like the knob.
And the bad paint job.
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Good for you George, such a good lesson to remind ourselves of. And beautiful lock and door handle btw. Will x
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Dear George, I can imagine how much a perfectionist you are (and probably a bit pessimistic and bossy as a Capricorn...
But didn't all these hours mediting and following oriental philosophy (and I am not making fun of you) help you to accept everyday as a gift? Even the bad days? Live and let lived.
I don't mean to be cheap and small-minded but I guess we can always make the best of our days.
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You are absolutely right.
It's true, it's true.
But I forget.
That's why I have to keep a record in my journal of evidence of all the good in my life.
Like you.
"Message from dear Jerome, reminding me to always make the best of every day."
Thank you.
Thank you.
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Dear George,
I am really flattered.
Shouldn't I, the French, be the one to use charm, flattery and compliments?
I want my Oscar!
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I thought the expression was, "When God closes a door, he opens a window."
My theory is he just likes to see us crawl.
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I had not heard the one about the window.
I'm not so sure there's a window in that hallway.
But give me an axe and I'll see what I can do.
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