The painted cabinet sits on the drop cloth on the wood floors of my bedroom. It feels dry to me. But it has to sit. And I have to wait. At least that's what experienced painters have told me. Not only does it need to dry, it needs to cure. To develop what painting experts call a "hard dry."
That means that when I set something on it, the cabinet will be able to hold it and that the paint job won't collapse under the weight of whatever I put on it. While researching it, I learned that it takes 21-30 days to cure. And day after day, I walk into my bedroom and look at the drop cloth and the unused cabinet and the painting detritus and I feel frustrated.
So today I spent a little time getting ready. It was something to do.
I pulled out the old night table and re-purposed it to another part of my home. I vacuumed the floor and the baseboards. I took all the stuff that had accumulated in that corner and organized it and put it away. I notice that it and other places around my house can end up being collection points for clutter and stagnant energy. And before I go to bed, I'm going to move the cabinet in place. There are still two weeks I can't use it, but at least it won't be sitting in the middle of the room, a constant reminder that I must wait.
Waiting can be a powerful spiritual practice, but it can also lead to feelings of stagnation.
If you can't do what you want to do, do something. The next, best, right thing.
The Great Summer Writing Retreat of 2018 continues. One hundred days of writing unedited ideas and following a prompt to its sometimes illogical conclusion.
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