Windows down, shades on, Stevie Wonder playing a concert just for me while I’m cruising to the nearest thrift store. Slow Saturdays are my jam. These easy going days that I fill with books, music, and art are SO refreshing to me; and they are such a contrast to the rest of my busy week.
Few people know this about me, but I have a bit of an “old soul”. I wouldn’t have ever said this about myself until the summer of 2017 when I started to notice my snail paced Saturday routine and my shelves lined with records, vintage cameras, and rustic books.
One of my favorite items currently in my possession is my 70s style dresser. I picked it up on the side of the road about four years ago proving once and for all that you get what you pay for. It’s on the small side and has a scratch every few inches. The drawers are about as smooth as sand paper. The handle on the top drawer won’t stay on no matter how many times I wrestle it back into place. But I love this dresser. It has style. It’s unique, simple and strong. It feels like me. Or at least what I want to be.
What I have found to be true in my life, is that the rustic things I own and my slow pace sabbaths are just echoes of the desires deep down in my soul.
I love old stuff, like my dresser, because they have character. They lasted. The fake things wouldn’t have made it this far in life. They are the real deal, and you know that because they have withstood the test of time. Yes, they may have gained some paint chips, scratches, and stains along the way; but it’s almost as if all that wear and tear actually helps us be able to see the real thing. Each imperfection was sculpted so that we can get to the item’s core.
And such is life.
The weathering of our circumstances are going to prove what we really made of. It’s going to chip away anything artificial and sculpt us until we get to the core of who we are.
Old things remind me that I want to last, but not unscathed because I also want to live fully. I don’t want to hold back even though it might mean getting a few scratches. I want the stains and rips that prove that I didn’t just sit back and hide from life.
I want my life song to sound something like the way B.B. King makes a guitar sing, full of emotion and grit. I want to somehow capture the beauty of incredible people and breathtaking places like my vintage cameras have captured countless times. I want to create something timeless like Etta James’ song “At Last” or The Beatles anthem“Let It Be” that will carry through generations and ever-changing trends. I want the rips and stains of what didn’t go right in my life to only further point to what did.
But I don’t want to miss life in the process. So, I slow down. I feel it and drink it all in because I don’t want to miss a second of this beautiful life.
Is it Saturday yet?
For a taste of some old school music,