Do not read if you don’t like things explained. If it’s going to ruin the magic for you, move along. Go look at pictures of kittens. Otherwise, enjoy my rambling commentary on why I chose to rename the blog.
I like words. Duh. Actually, I’m lovesick for them. I drive myself to edges trying to find them and nothing rivals the euphoric synchronization we sometimes achieve – when I serve them and they serve me and we get each other as much as any friend or lover ever did. Perfection.
This blog has undergone several name changes over the years. Some of it’s early years acted as a sort of update center for family living far away (I think I called it The Best Berries then) and it has always been a place where I’ve worked out what this whole thing is. In some ways, sharing what I’m wrestling with keeps me honest. And probably I have a need for attention, but an aversion to in-person spotlight so this is a nice work around.
And for quite some time – I’m starting to think longer than I’ve been aware – I have been compelled by Something to find Light. I am my mother’s daughter, after all. And then it needs attention, too. But unlike me, the Good Stuff is always interesting and always helpful so I do my best to minister to it with language.
For a couple years I’ve chewed on some new blog titles. Because I enjoy titles. And my own name is weird to look at on the top of the page; this blog isn’t me, not all of me, not the person of me – I’m not even sure what me is most of the time. This blog is my workout, it’s the stuff I make. I want to mark it with something other and keep my name to me.
I’ve always loved lavender. Growing up, I would run my hands along the slender flowers so they would carry the heavy scent into my Gramma’s house with me. I’d close my eyes and breath it in and let the scent twirl around me. I love that it’s smelled before seen. You know it’s there before you really know it’s there. It’s sensed before you have overwhelming empirical evidence. You could be tricked, say, by a Scentsy candle (those damn witches have managed to put every. exact. scent into wax. HOW DO THEY DO IT?!), but most of the time you know when it’s the real deal. Lavender is hearty. It grows around weeds. It survives harsh winters. It looks dead and then comes back to vibrant life.
Like light, like goodness and silver linings. Lavender has seasons and it carries suffering in its DNA. Woody, broken, lifeless stalks grow right alongside fresh, colorful, newlife ones. Lavender is a good thing, but it doesn’t always look so great. And sometimes it doesn’t survive the winter.
And the whole thing is surprising. Nothing about life is as straightforward as anyone originally thinks it is. Everything is jumbled together and messes us up and scares and thrills us and makes us depressed or grateful and often everything at once. We go through a lot of effort to calm things down, civilize ourselves and give ourselves more order, but living is not a tame or quiet thing.
Life, and we, are wild, wild, wild. Like flowers in a field nobody sees or stars that look stationary through our telescopes, but are actually dancing feral like savages. We look so put together and we build tall buildings that take lots of math, but at the end of every day we go into comas and our bodies shut everything down as close to death as they can just to recoup from 18 hours of being alive. How beautifully barbaric of us.
So I reserve the right to change the name of this space in the future or use it for something else. But for now, here it is. Still me doing the working out, still the same damned and lovely life I’m sharing. I’ll do my best to share the blessings and the curses because your life is probably full of both and at the end of the day, before we go into our comas, I just want my story to connect with yours and remind us both that we’re not alone or forgotten.
Grace and peace and love and light and lots of wine if you’re into that sort of thing.