Last night while I was working on the blog, Bonnie came back to the bungalow with doughnuts–Voodoo Doughnuts. I’d never had one before, but apparently they are a thing–creative packaging, filled with sugar, a great way to go up a pant size in less than twenty-four hours. But maybe the best part about them is that they are a little naughty–okay–a lot naughty. Their packaging is pink, and on the cover, along with a snake, is a magician with the words, “The magic is in the hole.” (Wow.) AND THEN it says, “Good things come in pink boxes.” (If you don’t get it, I’m not going to be the one to explain it to you. Especially you, Mom.)

So filthy–so funny–so tasty.

So that’s how today started, and I don’t mind saying that it’s gone downhill from there. I mean, Bonnie and I ate some delicious tacos before leaving Austin, and we listened to a lot of good music on the drive back to Arkansas today. But returning home after a great trip–to Austin of all places–can quite frankly blow. Let’s face it. Austin is where there’s live music, plenty of dancing, and amazing tacos. Van Buren, on the other hand, is where all my bills get delivered, the home of my bathroom scale, and the place where Mom has cancer. In short, there’s a lot of reality here.

Go away, reality, we don’t want your kind here.

I’m sure it doesn’t help that I’ve been extra tired this week and functioning on caffeine and sugar. Plus, I don’t mind saying that blogging every day about my emotions and internal life is–well–a real bitch at times. As if three years of therapy weren’t enough, now I’m personally journaling every day about what I think, feel, desire, and loathe, AND putting the highlight reel online for everyone to see. And I guess sometimes that leaves me feeling a bit vulnerable and raw, like what might happen if you had a scab that stretched from your face to your groin and intentionally ripped the whole thing off–you know–for fun. (Let’s start a blog and talk about our feelings!)

I don’t recommend it.

No, let’s eat doughnuts instead. And if you don’t think that will help, you can always take a pretzel and shove it in the heart of a one-eyed doughnut (that’s filled with red jelly) while pretending it’s everyone who’s ever 1) lied to you, 2) cheated on you, or 3) done you wrong.

When I got home tonight (about 1:30 in the morning), I went for a walk/jog to help clear my head, readjust. I’m not sure that it helped. But here’s something. My family has lived on this street for thirty years, and for as long as I can remember, situated between several houses and a local church, there’s been a patch of land that’s been a bit wild. From the road it’s looked like a bunch of overgrown trees, although sometimes it would get cut back, and maybe I remember seeing a cow or two back there. Whenever I would go for walks by there in the summers, there’d be a honeysuckle bush, and often I’d stop and smell it, even taste it.

Well, tonight as I walked by that plot of land, I thought something was different, but it took me a minute to figure it out. Y’all, the entire plot of land–maybe an acre or two of overgrown trees and honeysuckle–had been clearcut. (This is why I wouldn’t make a great detective.) It was just one big slab of dirt. Gone in the blink of an eye. Part of me was immediately sad–I’d gotten used to something being there, and now it was gone. Another part of me was delighted. Without the trees there, I could see all the stars shining through. There was all this–space. I wondered what would come along to fill it. There were so many–possibilities.

Sometimes I look at the way my life was before, and I miss it. On days like today when I’m wiped out and emotional, it’s easy to tell myself that life was better when I had a steady job, lived on my own, and every summer the honeysuckle bloomed in the same spot. Looking at my life now feels like looking at that empty plot of land–oh crap, where did everything go?  Again, it’s vulnerable and raw, in every way exposed. But at the same time, I can see stars I haven’t seen in years, and who knows who or what will come along, who knows what dreams may come.

There’s a poem by Robert Frost that says, “We dance round in a ring and suppose, but the Secret sits in the middle and knows.” What this means to me today is that it’s easy to look at the physical pieces of your life and think–that’s it–this blows. It’s easy to get caught up in what you can see, taste, and touch. But it’s the unseen dimension, I think, that gives the most shape to our lives. This is, of course, where divine wisdom lives, along with possibility. To be a little naughty, the magic is you know where. Additionally, it’s the holes or the spaces in our lives that give us room to breathe and room to rest in, room to contain both good and bad days, and–when the time is right–room for something else to come along.