At this time of year, I tell my daughter, you feel as if you own the lake. It feels like it’s just us, no one else around. And – well, here she is with a friend in the kayaks. At sunset. With Peaches watching.
I love that feeling. “Owning” a space. Like its yours. Or a time of day: no one else is awake. My time. I own it.
I’ve had Ariella here for a wonderful while. I get up early. She usually is slower to rise; that is, when Peaches doesn’t rouse her. So yes. I own the mornings. The late nights (after 9) – that can be hers. Let her own that time.
It’s funny. Ownership. It’s like getting someone to yourself. Being with the lake. Being with the morning.
And then: being with my art. My work. Now that might be what makes it so deeply gratifying. The with-ness. That relationship.
This morning I was in the woods that I treasure for my daily visits. It was Saturday. In the fall (leaves starting to turn red). I encountered two very elderly men. One was walking with two canes and the other was letting him determine the pace. It was heartwarming. But at first: I admit, I had to let go of the ownership of “my” woods.
Okay. Yes. Isn’t that what it’s all about in the end? To own. Then share. Love the lake, then bring a friend. Ingest the morning, then let it into my heart. Make the art. Then put it out there.
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. But meantime, owning? Shall we savor that part? Here in the fall…
Feels so sweet.