Tag: comfort

life lessons

On Comfort

mimijk

Hi my friend,

How are your days going? Welcoming the autumn palette? Wishing the summer an ambivalent goodbye? Pissed off at the abundance of holiday items on sale before Halloween has come and gone? Pleased to see such inventory and rue those who don’t share in your delight? Fearing that we are engaged in some kind of destruction of the Constitution; or fearing that we’re not?

These times require that we find spaces of comfort – and seek them out purposefully. Dave and Susan Kannigan’s photos; books that are immersive in scope or messaging or both; intentional hugs; falling in love with the clouds as they pass. Where do you find comfort?

I think comfort can be situational – that which soothes one day, may be less effective the next. And sometimes comfort presents itself in surprising places.

I was at Mayo Clinic last week (all is well, but for some cascading autoimmune issues – anyway it’s fine) – and you might think I found the most comfort in the extensive testing that was done. I did, but the greatest comfort rested in the people I met. Whether doctor or nurse, radiologist or technician – they all drank the Kool-Aid infused with care. And yeah, it didn’t hurt that the patient summaries refer to me as ‘delightful’ and ‘not looking close to her age’ (don’t be a wise guy – it was meant as a good thing). In knowing that after each test and appointment, Andy was in the waiting room.

So I think there is comfort that is immutable and holds us like an old sweater…and perhaps as we grow older, we realize that you need to take it out of the closet and keep it near.

Beneath The Sweater And The Skin

How many years of beauty do I have left?
she asks me.
How many more do you want?
Here. Here is 34. Here is 50.

When you are 80 years old
and your beauty rises in ways
your cells cannot even imagine now
and your wild bones grow luminous and
ripe, having carried the weight
of a passionate life.

When your hair is aflame
with winter
and you have decades of
learning and leaving and loving
sewn into
the corners of your eyes
and your children come home
to find their own history
in your face.

When you know what it feels like to fail
ferociously
and have gained the capacity
to rise and rise and rise again.

When you can make your tea
on a quiet and ridiculously lonely afternoon
and still have a song in your heart
Queen owl wings beating
beneath the cotton of your sweater.

Because your beauty began there
beneath the sweater and the skin,
remember?

This is when I will take you
into my arms and coo
YOU BRAVE AND GLORIOUS THING
you’ve come so far.

I see you.
Your beauty is breathtaking.’

~ Jeannette Encinias

Repost: Deva Vibha

life lessons

No More Than A Musing

mimijk

Hi again,

I was driving home the other day, anticipating the delight of throwing on my comfort clothes. More than all of the pret-a-porter fashion that I purchased when I was working, my deepest affection and connection is to my flannel pants and a ‘Davidson’ sweatshirt. Large sizes are not necessarily my most flattering, but they are, without a doubt, my most soothing.

When I was in college, my comfort clothes included a torn football jersey that my boyfriend (at the time) wore…in fact that was a big thing for awhile – wearing the shirts and jerseys of guys who were taller, bigger, etc…I lived in that jersey, wearing it and washing it until it was as soft as satin. Yeah, you could say it was a weird badge of some sort; for me it was a hug. Much like my outfit is as I write this at 6:00 in the morning.

I have reached a point in my life where comfort has usurped style in the pecking order of fashion, No more heels (and those of you who knew me back in the day, remember me wearing them at every opportunity – anything to reach 5’2”). No more outfits tailored to perfection. Nope – I look more like one of Oz’s munchkins in Scarecrow-sized clothes. Don’t get me wrong – my retirement style has not devolved to the point of pity. Jeans, leggings, Vans…it works for now.

But what I crave are comfort clothes, much like I crave coffee in the morning. And there’s a reason why, of course. I watch the news and I toggle between fury and fear and heartache – so much heartache. I find myself on a trek in a medical wasteland, where tests require more tests – a medical Matroshka doll, with few doctors that seem to give a damn now that Medicare has kicked in and private insurance has been kicked out (a post for another day perhaps).

And so I stand before you – a little person in overly capacious attire, looking a bit clownish, if not extremely comfortable. I have a feeling that you identify with this need for solace. I want to house every fleeing Ukrainian family, I want to cook for the displaced, I want to heal every person struggling through these times of frailty and horror, I want to propel us to some gentler moment. Big wants, big clothes. And so, I sign off for now – sending you love and hugs. Oh, and if you want some good resources for baggy comfort clothes, let me know.