Thursday, April 21, 2011
R is for Renaissance Ranch
synonyms - resurgence, reawakening, revival, rebirth
My best pal Laura once called me a renaissance woman. I've always hoped that it meant she thought I was well rounded and not... well... round.
Back in the day when we were both sans meaningful relationships, we had this half-assed funny (but a tiny bit serious) dream of opening a place called The Renaissance Ranch. It would be a place where we could sell good bean, perfectly brewed tea, delectable pastries, artwork, and... um... exercise our right to our naturally occurring, oh so warm and generous libidinous propensities and mad skills at tassel twirling. Ahem.
Now that we are both in wonderful, loving, solid relationships (ironically, both with amazing guys named Steve), that last part, at least, is a dream as faded as the odor of yesterday's flatulence.
But I keep coming back to the rest of the idea for The Renaissance Ranch. I have this vague, kind of pleasantly nagging thought at the back of my head that it would be great fun to open a place that encompasses everything I love and love doing (I reiterate, sans sex). It's actually a lot like my "real" life - I brew good bean, bake, and make and sell art. So, it's not such a stretch to have such a dream. (Any wealthy readers out there?)
What I've always found amusing and interesting is that Laura saw the renaissance revival in me long before I did. Long before. In fact, when she first referred to me as a renaissance woman, I thought it was just some weird form of sycophantic ass kissing. Granted, she will be the first to admit to being my sycophant bitch, but I think what she was really trying to do was to make me aware of my own gifts. That's a friend. That's a true friend. In truth, I only take such assertive praise from her because she's got some fine talents of her own.
When someone I admire admires me, I tend to pay attention. Even if I don't quite get it (at the time), I pay attention.
Over the years (years?! try decades) since she first said that, I've slowly grown into my renaissance skin. I've begun to understand about myself that when I have a creative idea, I can usually do it. Even more, I've realized that I have a need to apply and manipulate the idea. I know that if I at least try, I'm happier than I would have been just letting the idea fester, rot and slough away.
I now embrace my inner rebellion. I cheer the revival and reawakening of my own personal renaissance. Bring it! I have realized that I can't go a day without creating something, no matter what the venue is. And I think that is the true definition of what renaissance is - the need to create, thereby renewing oneself each day.
Now... where did I put that spare ranch....
It will have to be a largish compound with several varying kinds of art studios, lounging lagoons, meditation stations, and of course, an ever-flowing spigot of good bean. Come all ye renaissancers, come to the ranch... you know who you are.
Posted by Barb Black at 5:35:00 AM