I made this!

 This morning, as a I was snuggling into my couch preparing for my creative time, thoughts ping ponging against every conceivable subject, as they do, I stopped to marvel at how comfortable my life is.

Literally comfortable.

On almost every perchable surface, I have something warm and fuzzy - a blanket, a fuzzy pillow, a beloved but no longer wearable sweater or jacket. I have stuffed animals in almost every room. I have soft rugs and warm colored curtains and cozy objects - like tea pots and gnomes and things that are green and things to be read. Oh, and lights. I have lights, draped and strung. 

It is possible I have too many of some of these things all in one spot. There are days when I wish the designer had shown a little restraint. I would like sometimes to wake up and be in a place that feels a little more pristine and clean instead of cluttered.

But on the other hand, this house feels like it's okay to live in it. 

And I get so tickled, sometimes, at how comfortable it is. Look at this, I think. There are pillow pets and fuzzy blankets on this couch I sit on every day! I get to snuggle into flannel sheets on a bed that has a lovely plush mattress pad protector. My life is soft and snuggly and warm and fuzzy. 

And I realize - and it feels so strange that I have to tell myself this - I am the one who allowed my house, my home, my life to be this way. I am the one who decided I am going to put those stuffed animals in my living room and I don't care what any (hypothetical) visitor says. I get to have a big white blanket on the couch and have to share blanket time with my cats. I chose this rug and those curtains and to keep watering that plant. I told my tall spouse where to hang the lights. 

I made this space into the cozy comfortable space it is.

And I don't know, anymore, where that lingering feeling, like I'm getting away this something, like this is verboten but I am doing it anyway - I don't know where that came from. I don't know where most of my internal ideas of how something should look or be spring from. Probably books and tv shows and things I internalized as a child. Maybe there is even some form of "everything must be in it's place" in one of my personalities. Certainly my stubbed toes might prefer to have fewer cat toys on the floor. 

But happily, my internal Better Homes and Gardens critic has quieted over the years, because I love sitting down and marveling at how comfortable my couch is. Grinning in delight at the cookbooks displayed on the antique baking rack. Sitting on my cushy couch, just reveling in the comfort. 

And knowing that if the choices I made for something as simple as a comfortable life work in the physical world, where else can my choices, my preferences, my desires manifest?

So yay me! for all the beauty and cozy in my world. And thank me for this comfortable life.

Don't be a unicorn.

 There is a mug/meme/bumper sticker saying - one of many, I'm sure - that reads "Be yourself. Unless you can be a unicorn. Then be a unicorn."

I always cheered that. Of course! Let's be unicorns. Sparkly, magical, bright, shiny, unique.

Except. That seems like a lot of work, doesn't it? To always be bright and shiny. To always be magical. To always be unique. There is a certain expectation of awesome individuality in the idea of a unicorn - a gift, a prize, a mark of favor if one is a friend.

And, much as I love admiration and friendships, I don't think I want to work that hard. I don't want to be constantly on, every time someone else is in the room, so I am giving the full unicorn experience. And these days, the "unicorn experience" is different for everyone, isn't it? Do Unicorns poop rainbow glitter (or glittered rainbows), do they protect you with their deadly horns? Do they seek virgins or just the pure at heart? Are they wise and curious and get in deadly debates with dragons? Or are they meek and gentle and spend their time trotting through sun dapples forest glades? Are they horses with horns? Or whispers on the wind?

No, being a unicorn is too much about someone else's world view. And don't get me wrong, I love unicorns. I believe in them and I am blessed to connect with them. I am a unicorn girl all the way (except for the glitter poop and barfing rainbows. People, please!)

If  I was going to be any alternate being, it would be a cat. Not only because cats don't care, and they are mysterious and unique and aloof and cuddly and even those of us who know our cats best can never be 100% sure what they're going to do, but also...

... because cats don't care what others think of them. They aren't, to the best of my knowledge, trying to fulfill some ideal of cat-ness. And yeah, we want to be friends with the cats (unless we're allergic,)  we seek cat approval, but we accept it when we're snubbed. And we let them walk away. Or curl up and sleep on us. Or dip their tail in our milk. (I mean, we get mad when they do that, let's be honest. But we aren't surprised when it happens. And we tell stories about it later.) 

Yeah, if I'm going to be myself to the ultimate best of my ability, all the time, then I'm going to strive to be like a cat.