My Mom and I hosted another round of Spending Time Mending Things at The Seasoned Farmhouse a week ago. We weren't sure we had the time to spend on this second go around. But we spent it, and with zest.
Do you have time to spend on your heart's desire? I know most people I talk to these days do not. Time is moving faster, there is some shift occurring and people are "crazy busy." (What does that mean anyway? It suggests one is crazy and can't help it... and perhaps that is so.) When you are so wrapped up with the forward thrust of life it can be hard to make choices for your heart's desire while paying the bills. I hear of so many people who hate their jobs or feel stressed out on an ongoing basis or who are fighting to get health care to get well. I hear of so much strife and sickness.
So in an attempt to rise above the ball and chain, my Mom and I spent time hosting another performance centered on the joys of gathering, watching, listening, contemplating and savoring food and the creative life. Like the littleness of the figs cut in half, there was a little half cut fig of guilt in me. I'll tell you why.
Those who were scheduled to assist me with the show could not when the time came. Out of all the guests I invited, a modest sum showed up. The weather forecast revealed a tornado warning three hours before the show. All seemed to be going in the wrong direction. I doubted my creative fire. I wondered why I had been called to do the show again, and involve my Mom who works hard enough as it is. I felt guilty for making myself push the boulder of a dance performance up the hill again, taking time away from those I love and asking those I love to push the boulder up with me.
Soon enough, though, it became a dinner party featuring a risotto frittata with butternut squash and gorgonzola, figs wrapped in prosciutto atop local arugula dressed in a fig balsamic vinegar and olive oil and pear crumble with candied ginger and crème fraîche. It became a chance to spend some time. And in that chance I watched our guests relax a little more. I watched strife peel away. I watched pleasure reveal itself.
It rained, too. After the performance, I watched the puddles grow outside and caught up with old colleagues and friends. Together, we made home for a moment. It was special.
And so I walked away feeling grateful to have had that time to spend on another performance. While my Mom and I paid the price of putting on a show that marries food and performance (we've been tired all week and had little desire to cook!) the elements of our time together shine through every now and then, reminding me of why one must pay attention to their creative fire and make the things happen that they are called to make happen.
As I reflect on the evening, I feel how we're not around forever to have time to spend. I feel how time is not free. It comes at a cost. And to spend it with people, to generate a creative life that honors time and its possibilities, is to say to life that you love it and you relish the impermanence of all things.
Spend time instead of letting time spend you. It's a lovely practice.