FROM THE OUTSIDE, I MUST LOOK HILARIOUS yesterday. Still in my pjs and robe at 2pm, wearing a toasty warm Santas hat (it is almost Christmas) as my head bobs in and out of view. I am, after all, sitting very near the window on my aeRobic Rider, that ancient style of exercise equipment that is like a rowing machine and…well, not sure what else, but instead of maintaining a horizontal forward and back, it moves me up & forward, then down and back. It’s funky. But, it gets the job done, exercising arms, back, legs, hips and waist. And get a the heart rate up too boot.
But still, for someone outside, it must look pretty peculiar. Especially with the red hat.
It’s cold in the house. My single paned windows just don’t hold the heat in, so the poor heater keeps cranking it out, only to be sucked away before I can enjoy it. So, I decided that I’d work the ‘internal heater’ a bit via some good old fashioned exercise. It worked, sort of. It’s still cold in here and my body won’t allow exercising long enough to warm me for more that a few minutes. And I keep finding myself returning to my writing (well, blogging–I’m still in ‘procrastination’ mode for my novel) — the stillness of sitting in front of the computer chills me even more.
For me, the positioning of the equipment was important. Yes everyone can see the foolishness, but more importantly, I can see out to my beautiful, naturally landscaped front yard. No, I don’t mean weeds. Well, yes, there are those. But what dominates the landscape are graceful, gnarly oak trees that have been here since before we moved in some 40 years ago — the landscape peppered with a few much younger ones also. The bed of rich brown decomposing leaves, against their craggy brown-to-almost-black and mottled with greyish, striated trunks, and capped by their green foliage is quite picturesque. Behind that, I can see a small hillside and ledge, made of a natural stone outcropping, then my neighbours manicured garden (I only see small glimpses of this). Off to one side, peeking through the branches, I can see wee bits of another neighbour’s home, painted an aesthetically pleasing green.
The beauty triggers my imagination. I am renewed just by sitting and staring out at it. I am invigorated by this exercising to my visual ‘music’ that reaches out beyond my view to both sides, and it leaves me to imagine what lies beyond. And what plantings I could paint the landscape with to improve the view. And then, my imagination dances with ideas for my blog novel…
Oh, I love my imagination. If only I could harness it. Fully. Dominate it. Completely. Be the master. Forever. It’s like a wild horse, prancing just beyond my reach, daring me. Taunting me to try. I’ll never catch it, tame it, train it completely. Not in this life time, at lease.
All I can do is dance with it and see what happens.