Wet Things Dry
There was a time when I understood this simple fact.
I lived for the joy of a muddy stream on a hot summer day and there was nothing better than lying in the dew-wet grass as the drifting clouds lured me to sleep.
Now I cringe at even the thought of sitting in something wet, let alone getting a bit of mud on me.
As a society, we have devoted millions of dollars, quite literally, to finding the most effective ways to make wet things dry and dirty things clean.
So why do I go through my day horrified of getting wet or dirty? When did wet and dirty become permanent scars to be avoided at all costs?
If this is what it means to be an adult, then I’m with Peter Pan from here on out.
I spent so much of my youth yearning for the responsibility and respect that seemed to come with becoming an elder in this world, not realizing that membership in this club would beget the murder of every shred of joy and nature in my life.
I take long walks with my dog, but I no longer dangle my feet, shoes on, in a madly rushing cool stream. The very idea seems preposterous. I certainly don’t leap and jump into muddy puddles. And I curse like a pirate if I find burrs or muddy paw prints on my pants.
Which is insane. There may be no greater joy than standing barefoot in the rain and feeling the mud squeeze up and between my toes.
It’s given me pause. What else have I forgotten?
How about procrastination. The devil of the modern worker. Self-help gurus feed our guilt over our lack of focus and grit. But there was joy and humanity in procrastination. I knew this at one time – the need to leave homework for the dark edges of the day so as to wring every minute of life from the days we are given.
Instead, I work like a machine for deadlines that are always bullshit and then stumble around bleary-eyed in the moonlight with my dog trying to recall the smells of a babbling brook on a sunny day, or what mud feels like when squished between bare toes.
Enough is enough.
It’s time to get dirty, wet and covered in burrs. I’m tired of giving my washing machine such an easy time of it. That thing is going to work for a living from here on out.
But wait, it’s about to rain and I have my good shoes on. Tomorrow. I’ll start tomorrow.
Fuck the little green heart. Here are some amazing articles I just read that you should make sure you check out!
I don’t read dog stories because my heart can’t handle it when the dog dies or is hurt in any way. This story was so lovely and the dog is alive and healthy! Kudos to my beloved Jules for this one.
S Lynn Knight goes SUPER deep but asks some killer questions about how we show love and represent our intentions online.
Hilal Isler is a new find for me. This piece is so brilliant and is for all the writers out there who have a bad day and struggle to show up to write.
