I love old Saint Paul. Passionately.
Yesterday we drove around looking at houses we might buy from the outside. We don’t want to hire a realtor until this spring, or at least not for a little while. So, we’re still merrily scouting out the neighborhoods and gathering a better sense of things.
It’s heartbreakingly beautiful. Some of the homes look so filled with romance and a tremendous amount of wild promise from the outside. You can so easily imagine the treasures both architectural and otherwise that must be inside. Too easily. And of course, it’s all imagination because often what’s inside is dismally disappointing. You know what I mean. They’re the sort of house where there’s really nothing to be all that happy or excited about. The home is just a big nothing or a dangerous mess waiting for a victim.
But I did and do feel so much longing at the thought of it. Ahh. Just the very idea of that beauty…
And, in my most honest moments, I have to admit my true self. I love the sort of work involved in preserving that kind of beauty. And I love the quietness and sincerity it often involves to be mindful enough for me to be able to do so. I’m certainly a creative introvert if nothing else. I want to dive in so badly, but with a certain silence and peace.
I’m not really an aggressive person by nature (although I can be as feisty as they come when needed), so I’m afraid I will have to leave a lot up to other forces. I do best when I keep to myself and give my thoughts respectfully but firmly. I am most at ease and happiest when I can truly lean back and trust and then get to work… Of course that requires a lot of good fortune and general goodness.
And as much as I love adventure, I just need to be patient. I need to be extremely patient with indifferent nature and the general state of life – my life. I need to really wait. And I think, waiting is something we all need to learn to acquire a taste for again…
And in that waiting I need to be wise. Ideally I don’t want to loose anything valuable (like time or energy).
My mind needs an honest calm though. So … off to shoes. And pearls. And the sort of sartorial truthfulness that has enough risk involved to make it fun but enough inborn safety to make it restful.