Soap Plot

Soap Plot

If we take care of the moments, the years will take care of themselves.     

Maria Edgeworth

Some days I lose the plot - the plot not just for soap, but for life. Love Birds Sorcery Soap

Lately I haven’t felt exactly happy. My actions have been motivated to cause happiness. Each time I do something I ask, “will this make me happy?” All these gyrations have produced many things, but not happiness. Life has been a grind.

The other day I asked myself, “what if happiness is no longer the goal?” That’s when I got to the work of of work. That’s when I began to be more productive, and therefore, more satisfied. I became lost in my tasks, deep down the time warp; that creative place where time loses meaning and all that is left is the craft, the task, the doing of the imagined… Life.

Today, as I grabbed my camera, walked outside and stood patiently waiting for the hummingbirds at their feeder, I realized I was happy. I had a master batch of oils and butters in the crock pot, laundry in the washer and dryer and was taking pleasure in the moody weather. I took a moment to take photos. Photography, like soap, is an odd endeavor. Both require doing, action. I photograph some obscurer image, edit images, weight oils, mold a strange soap shape, even do soap dishes. All these life endeavors that we all do, my mind wanders into dangerous territory. The forest of desire. Where the desire to be happy invades my mind and I remember another time, a time of being joyful and I get confused. A moment of joy is not happiness. Happiness is, generally, upon reflection. I rarely notice happiness in the moment, but am busy being happy.  I forget happiness is not a life goal.

For some reason I forgot. I forgot about the doing. I began to think of all these things, dishes and laundry, hindering my path to happiness. I had lost the plot.

This isn’t the first time I’ve encountered this idea that happiness isn’t the goal of life. I believe life is a series of spirals, and if I’m aware, I can learn more each turn of the spiral, each revisiting of similar events, similar awarenesses.

As I grow older I see less and less that is new, but if I watch I can see things from a new perspective.


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1 comment

Sometimes I see the threads you weave; just vague images of the quilt your life is making. How they are inner-connected; your thoughts and your arts. It is quite colorful and beautiful!

Sharon Chapman

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