Scared Sacred

In a light, dry-mouthed doze this morning, the thought occurred to me that my life is a sacred experience and a privilege. I have taken it for granted, ignored its maintenance and am due for a good old spring cleaning.

For the past few days I've had to list my food and drink intake for an appointment with a nutritionist. Already I can see that I'm seriously low on water intake. Partly due to preference for tea or juice and partly due to a distaste for plain old water going back to my childhood. I can hardly remember drinking anything except milk in school and later tea and coffee, then wine and you can take it on from there. But plain old water is a newcomer to the desert that is my body, and hasn't been given a warm reception.

As if God wanted to drill home the message even harder, this morning I also got an email comparing coke and water listing the pros and cons of both and though I don't really believe that a steak will disappear in two days if you soak it in coke, it got my attention. It's late morning and all I've taken in since I woke up around 9am is a few gulps of decaf black tea. My brain and other major organs are no doubt fed up with me. Not fed at all, in fact.

So if my body is sacred what about the space I live in, the clothes and condition of my affairs. Are they not equally sacred? I have a friend who has kindly agreed to phone me with reminders that I am the one who can create order and beauty in the sacred space that is my home. Lovely as that sounds, I just want somebody else to do it please. So turns out that not only am I extremely ungrateful for just being alive, I am lazy to boot. I'd rather not get myself up the ladder hoisting boxes of stuff into the attic, but I don't mind watching you do it, especially if you follow my specific instructions.

So this is a morning of some reflection on how I've been a bit of a spoiled brat and it's time to grow up. Spring is the time for growth, so that's on cue I guess.