Vivid Living

In the midst of writing a keynote speech for a Fortune 500 CEO today, I decided to reward myself.  My treat? A new pair of slippers. It was 3:30 pm and I’d been working on the speech since early morning. I was tired and needed a perk. Actually, I HAD TO HAVE THE SLIPPERS IMMEDIATELY. Call it the “I need it now” gene, which also showed itself the other evening after dinner as I nuzzled Steve. “Hi honey. I love you. Can you please get me some Espresso Chocolate Chip ice cream?”

I am a longtime slipper lover.  And I’ve got to credit my grandmother, Myrtie, for this fix. She’s now wheelchair-bound in the final stages of Alzheimer’s but in my mind’s eye I still picture her waltzing around her spacious English Tudor-style house in New Jersey, singing a tune and wearing any one of her soft padded slippers. She had a whole collection: light blue, carnation pink, butter yellow, and my personal favorite, gold lame. Her feet were two sizes smaller than mine yet I loved her and her slippers so much that I wore them anyways. It hardly mattered to me that my heels hung over the back edge.

I no longer have any more of my grandmother’s slippers so now I have to buy my own. I’m not interested in fancy beading or feathers; I want soft material that bathes my feet. And when they wear down so that the soles no longer spring, out they go, to good will or garbage heaven depending upon future usability.

Back to my slipper run to T.J. Maxx. If I didn’t need slippers so urgently, I might have passed. Nothing really suited my taste but I settled on an ivory pair of Isotoners that were actually a bit big. “These can work,” I rationalized.

Yet…when I returned home and picked up the mail, I had a fabulous surprise: the therapeutic alignment slippers I had ordered while watching an infomercial on television one sleepless night had arrived. I could barely contain my excitement as I tore the bag apart.  They’re perfect – creamy in color and texture with just the right bounce. By the way, I don’t have feet problems; I was drawn to these slippers because of how comfortable the commercial made them out to be. Okay, I’m highly gullible at midnight, but if you’d like to try them for yourself, visit Dream Products.

I may keep both pairs of slippers or I may return the Isotoners. I’m not sure yet. But I’m convinced that I was meant to have a new pair of slippers today. Which is more about finding comfort and allowing myself this small reward than the actual slippers.

I’m all for little, instantaneous indulgences.

So I’m finally reading Cormac McCarthy’s The Road.

I’ve been meaning to read the book for a few years but have resisted largely because of its grim plot.  Typically, I have no interest in books built around violence and destruction.

And yet this book is different. For those of you who haven’t read it (and I hope you do), I won’t give away the apocalyptic story line.  For me, I’m moved on a few levels. The writing is sparse and powerful.  “There were times when he sat watching the boy sleep that he would begin to sob uncontrollably but it wasn’t about death. He wasn’t sure what it was about but he thought it was about beauty or about goodness.”

Beyond the pitch perfect writing, the story is so raw and primal that it has deeply unnerved me. I’m dreaming in vivid colors – black rage, red fear, purple anxiety. Last night I dreamt that I got arrested for stepping off the curb with the wrong foot. The previous night I had lost my way and was running, en route to my children, who were lost and waiting for me. My first husband was in the dream and also my stepson.  I can’t quite make it all out but I woke to my own cry of “No.” Steve jumped.

For someone who usually can’t remember any aspect of her dreams, I find all of this fascinating.

I suppose I really shouldn’t read dark subjects before bed. Yet what lingers for me is that light and hope persist in the darkest of times.  That is what moves me deepest.

Because I know, and I understand.

I had a mind-body experience last week.

While Keda from Denver’s Spa Universaire hung from parallel bars, deftly pressing her bare feet into my naked flesh, I couldn’t help but think about my voice.  In the midst of this killer Ashiatsu massage (killer as in deep release not pain), I was thinking about intention and the color yellow and the cleansing smell of orange, lemon and lavender.

You see, I had picked the word “Intention” from among the seven Chakra cards Keda presented (Chakras relate to our energy centers). It made perfect sense that this was the card and these were the oils I selected.

Because without intention, there could be no Vivid Living.  Writing with purpose and passion has helped me own my voice and give voice to others. Intention is what has carried me this first year while blogging, and increasingly, it’s at the center of everything I do. I try to begin the day thinking about intention – in terms of my family, my work, my friendships, and my desires.

You know what? It’s the best form of meditation I’ve discovered. That and a great body massage…

How do you bring intention into your life?