toy room muse

When you called to see if I was still here I told you: "I am living in a toy room."

Sometimes we're in a flow. Sometimes we aren't (though of course, we always are, life is movement after all).

Sometimes it's this mix and it tugs us in two directions, and it feels funny and beautiful and when we say it out loud we are reading a poem of our life right now. This is the joy of paradox.

Living in this toy room is beautiful. It's clarifying. It's messy (but I’ve wrangled the chaos to a daily use of space ritual I enjoy) and hard to concentrate; it’s also the honor of being an Auntie at all hours and discovering the sweetness of play and disarray and squishy oversized dolphins that can be used as arm rests when you call.