- "Pied Beauty"
- Gerard Manley Hopkins
- GLORY be to God for dappled things,
- For skies of couple-color as a brinded cow,
- For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
- Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls, finches' wings;
- Landscape plotted and pieced, fold, fallow and plough,
- And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
- All things counter, original, spare, strange,
- Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
- With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim.
- He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change;
- Praise him.
I will be the first to admit, I have become mildly obsessed with the blogosphere. I say "mildly"without reservation; I am not addicted and I have no problem going days without checking up on my favorite reads. Nonetheless, I like to read about other people's perfect lives, perfect kids, perfect diets, perfect kitchens, perfect meals, even though I realize I have little hope of attaining these things in my own life, ever. There is something about my own inadequacy and insecurity (read, "pied beauty") that thrills me (kidding, sort of).
Despite the slightly biting tone introducing this post, I don't envy all these lovely bloggers. I love the gorgeous, juicy pictures they take of each meal (deliciously fit, the thin chef), and it really is inspiring to see the way they strive to live so healthily in day to day life. (I like to eat red vines while I read these blogs.) I like to dream about baking delicious whole wheat bread or making fluffy, puffy waffles for my family on a Saturday morning (browneyedbaker) or being ever so crafty, creative or fixy with things around the house (designfix). I could go on. I could continue writing about all the blogs I read, further exposing the pathetic but incredible ways in which I waste time each day, but I'll spare you. More than sparing you, I'll spare myself.
"I have a college degree!" I tell Jonathan. Never, by the way, NEVER did I EVER think I would utter those obnoxious words after becoming a mother. But here I am, sometimes frustrated by my life with two children under the age of two, having the same conversations every day, occasionally bitter that my kids always look cuter, cleaner and more together than I do (I LOVE my sports bra and gym shorts, seriously, they are awesome). I tell Jonathan that I could do these things if only I had time! I could take pictures and write beautiful poetry on the blogosphere and maybe even have readers who extend beyond my circle of friends. In response, he has threatened to begin a blog solely dedicated to his poop. He will blog daily about each poop and take pictures of it.
I get the message:
LIVE life, Maggie. Live it and stop trying to blog about it. Don't get me wrong, dear reader. The aforementioned blogs are inspirational and lovely. These are people who have time and have the lives to make the time, and most of all, have the passion to blog about the things that they do. You'll get no judgement here. These blogs are good things. Right things. But I think I may be having a competition with myself. I think I may be thinking so much about what a cute blog post a moment of the day would make, that I miss the moment. I think I may be a lacking the gift of multi-tasking. And while it is likely that God gave us blogs and blogs aren't bad, it is certain that God gave me my children and my husband, and they should be my focus. So instead of blogging about my perfect life...I will (occasionally) blog about my real life. This will be illustrated by fewer blog posts, because my real life often keeps me from blogging. I will blog about the coupled colors of the brinded cow--my cow is not pure milky white, it is splotchy. I will not covet other people's lives, talents or menus. And most of all, I am NOT going to call Jonathan's bluff regarding his new poop blog (because he's not one to bluff). I am taking a break. I will blog when it's convenient. I will blog the truth, not just the cute. I will tell you about the fickle and freckled things that lead me to the cross and that really, to be honest, define my daily living. And I will live, oh reader. I will Live with a capital L this less-than-perfect, lovely, god-breathed, precious, wouldn't-trade-it-for-anything, (except maybe the ability...motivation?... to grind my own wheat berries) incredible life for the time I have now. Thanks for reading my rant.