I was reading a poignant post on a blog this evening, written after the passing of a much loved pet. In the post, the author mentions that there are some things about herself she would like to change, and told her husband about them.
Immediately, a thought came to mind.
Can we ever change ourselves?
Can we only ever become more who we truly are?
There are things that I have discovered in my adult life which are now so much a part of me that I cannot imagine them not being there. When I discovered vintage housekeeping over at Brocante Home, which you will know is one of my favourite websites, something clicked inside of me, and rather than discovering something new exactly, it was like recognising something inside of me that was already there. The same with my burlesque dancing, and wearing red lipstick. So many little things.
I am going out with some people from my new office on Thursday. I hestitated over what to wear. I have an amazing new green dress, one of the Gok Wan range from Sainsbury's, but I didn't know if I felt confident enough to wear it. But then I realised that the dress is really very me, and with my hair long and loose, my lips reddened, and my heels on, yes, it will be a statement, but it will also be me so I will be going with that rather than the safer choice.
I don't think any of us are finished works, we are always in progress, there is always more in ourselves to discover. That is the wonder and mystery of life. There are habits that I have or behaviours I have that I would like to change. But me, myself? I don't know that it is something that can be changed. I know that I am in a place now that I wouldn't want to, even if it were possible. I don't mean that in any self-congratulatory way. Just that I am slowly coming to know more and more what Sarah Ban Breathnach would call my authentic self.
And where there are changes we want to make in the way we live our lives, or things that we do, or don't do, somehow it feels much easier to think about it in terms of trying to change what we do rather than who we are.
That is all a bit more philosophical than I intended to be on a Tuesday evening. Is it really only Tuesday still? It feels like it has been a long week, but not in a bad way. I got home tonight and cleaned the bathroom. I didn't really feel like it, but tonight is the night I have designated on my new household cleaning routine, and once I got into it, I was really glad I stuck to it. Then I poured a pot of tea, and sat at my kitchen table with a Nigella Lawson book, to decide what to bake for Carl's Nan's funeral on Friday. I have decided an apple and rosemary cake, as rosemary is for remembrance. I think I might prink it up with a little hint of lemon. Then dinner, alone tonight, as Carl is out. He is so unhappy in his job it hurts to see it. I hope that things ease for him soon. I have the lights low, the window open, and for once, the door closed. The room is soft and almost womb-like. The scent from a bunch of sweet peas is carried on the lightest of breezes.
I hope that wherever you are, you know peace this evening.