Corn

I've never been able to grow corn.  Tried many times, occasionally with minor success, but I've never had more than a few ears grow to maturity.

This year, it appears my luck has turned.

I've read before (probably in some wacky Anthroposophy/biodynamic book) about how your state of mind whilst tending a garden can affect the plants either negatively or positively.  I've always taken it to mean that if I work in the garden when I'm at peace and happy then my garden should flourish.  And vice versa.

Maybe that's been my problem with corn then?  And cucumbers, for that matter.

There's magic in this world.  I believe that more and more each day.  Things that don't make logical sense and things that suddenly manifest or fall into place....I don't want to understand it.  I just want to be a part of it.  The more I recognize it the more places I see it.

Blueberries and I haven't been friends either.  Never been able to get a patch established.  Now?  I have a beautiful, mature bunch of bushes that is producing so many of my favorite berries.  So.  Many.  I like to walk out in the morning and pick just enough to mix into my breakfast yogurt.  That's pretty magical.  At least in my world.

Cucumbers?  There will soon be pickles filling up my shelves again.  Tomatoes?  More than I'll know what to do with.  Green beans?  Well, those things have never judged me and have always given me plenty but I'm forever thankful for their non-judging magic.  I suppose they've been what's kept me gardening!

I tend this new garden, tilled up for me with selfless hard work and love and promise, quietly and gratefully.  I water it (probably more than I need to!) and weed it and fertilize it (with Dave's Super Alpaca Manure--it's a proprietary blend).  And I think the crazy magic that exists in the world is so present in this place.

 I see it.

What Day is It?

I'm beginning to lose track of what day it is.  Probably much like every other citizen of the world right now.  I've cooked and baked and sewed and knit and gardened and napped and watched TV and worked a little and homeschooled a little and run some and hung out at home a lot.  All of this unencumbered time has allowed me to do some uninterrupted thinking too.  Maybe even a little introspection?

Scary thought, right?!

If you would have asked me last year at this time what I would be doing today I highly doubt ANY part of my current existence would be part of that answer.  Seriously.  I don't think there's any part of the present that I could have anticipated.  And you know what?  I'm so thankful that it all unfolded (even this Corona/Covid thing) without any assistance from me.  It was all some magical, providential timing.  I didn't push or plead or manipulate a thing.

I think my faith in the universe has been restored.

I'm old and you know what they say about old dogs and new tricks.  Gosh, once I write those words out I realize how overused this cliche is!  But it's still such an accurate analogy that I can't find anything that could better take its place.   We're going with it then.   I'm old.  And I've learned plenty of new tricks in the past year.

I've learned how to fall in love and create a beautiful life with an amazing person.  I've learned how to see that life through a different lens and adjust accordingly.  I've learned about different things to consider when parenting my kids.  I've learned about letting things go.  I've learned how to let someone into my life and how to trust that they will do anything to help me become a better version of myself.  I've learned how to ignore people and things and not respond all the time.  I have learned that I am not always right. Ahem.  I have been beautifully humbled.

Yes, I'm old, but I'm still learning.

Have you ever tried to tighten the cap on a bottle or the threads connecting hoses together?  You know how sometimes you get those threads off kilter?  Cross-threaded?  It might all look ok to the naked eye and it might even appear that everything is in working order.  But then there's a little bit of pressure that builds up or a little heavy usage and WHAM!  everything explodes in a glorious catastrophe.

Up until recently, I think that's how I have been accustomed to living.  Things look fine to the outside world, but inside, I was not threaded right.  Life had a way of blowing my cross-threaded existence apart.  I feel like I've been screwed back together correctly for the first time ever.  Maybe this realization and the accompanying feelings can be attributed to age and experience or maybe it's just some sort of magic.  (I like to think it's definitely magic.) All I know is that the wonky bits are fitting correctly.

I'm still learning about life and stuff.  I honestly hope that part never ends.  But I'm also breathing a sigh of pure contentment and enjoying a level of fulfillment that was incomprehensible until now.

I feel such gratitude for all of it.

Contentment

Contentment:  noun; the state of happiness and satisfaction

This has not been a familiar feeling for me for many years.

A sweet friend mentioned to me that other day how strange it was to see me idle in my new home.  To not hear of the latest plans I had to repaint a room or rearrange some furniture or redecorate some space was not something she had ever witnessed with me before.  This got me thinking.  And she was correct.  Reinvention has always been a part of me.

That, in turn, made me think about why I changed things so often?  Gosh, did I have some crazy, deep-seated issues that made me redo everything in my life in order to escape reality or hide from myself?  Was this a horrible habit that I would forever continue to revisit?   Was it really actually even a bad thing?

Sorta kinda.

You see, I think that discontent has been my companion for many years.  I haven't exactly been unhappy, certainly not miserable, but not content or fulfilled either.  Something always seemed to be missing and that missing thing is what I was always attempting to find through changing things around me.  "Order (or reorder) your surroundings and your life will follow" has always felt right to me.

I believe that a certain amount of change is good for us all.  It encourages flexibility and helps us be open to learning new things.  But being in a constant state of the redo makes us forget, albeit temporarily, our reality.  It also makes us ungrateful for what we already do possess.

I haven't painted a single wall since I've been here.  Not one.  Well, except for the chalkboard wall in the basement but that was for Sarah's use.  I haven't rearranged anything besides a few shelves in the kitchen either.  I haven't insisted on much really.  I've just been.  Allowed things to unfold.  Let other people make the decisions.  And do you know what I've learned from this?  I have learned contentment.

Look at that definition at the top of the page, please.  That is where I am.  For the first time in many years, if not for the first time ever, I am living in the present--the now-- surrounded by happiness and satisfaction.  *happy sigh* There is not room here for sadness or anger or regret or envy or fear or whatever it is that contributes to the discontent.

Read the definition again.  It has taken a lifetime to get to this place, both literally and figuratively.  And this is exactly where I want to stay.

To Share....Or Not To....

My television is broken.  

Not that I watch a lot of TV, but sometimes in the evenings I like to snuggle up with my Paris Woolen Mill blanket (THAT is a story for another day!), some tea, a roaring fire, and binge watch.  But with a broken television, I've had to rethink this ritual.  

Lately I've just taken to my bed (with another Paris Woolen Mill blanket--part of that same story) in the evenings that I'm alone, still with some tea, and read a book or write.  I can only write when I'm by myself.  My brain doesn't multitask well these days.  Ahem. 

I used to share a lot of stuff when I wrote.  Pretty much everything really.  I would entertain the occasional worry that maybe I was being too forthcoming with what I wrote about.  I admit that I worried that I might seem overly negative or too sad or a big time complainer.  I even worried that I made it seem like I drank too much whisky all too often (I don't.).

But those thoughts were just little niggling barbs and I wrote with honesty and transparency, damn it all anyway.

I've never been a particularly private person.  I don't have much to hide.  I can't lie very well either. So being an open book comes easily for me.   You know when you meet someone for the first time and they end up sharing their entire life's story with you?  Yeah, well, that's usually me.  I think I'm motivated to do this by attempting to forge connections through commonalities.  Who doesn't love a little solidarity, right?

Lately, though, I'm not feeling so candid.  Not here in this space and not so much outside of here either.

I want to keep the good things in my life to myself, hold them close but still with open hands.  I don't want prying eyes and judging mouths to get close enough to damage or mar what I hold.  There is a fierce sense of protection that I feel for my privacy now.  I don't want to fret over whether I've offended someone or caused unwarranted concern for my well being or sanity.  And really, I just don't feel the need to communicate much these days.  

Quiet.  Peaceful.  Simple.

Yes, simple is what I'll write about soon.  

Lessons, Episode #3

1.  You are never, ever too old to learn something new.  Or relearn something old.  Or change directions.  Or start over.  Or respond differently.

2.  Some people will never enjoy drinking wine.  I used to think that I would develop a taste for wine as I got older but that theory has failed me miserably.  Same thing with acorn squash:  I just can't do it.

3.  Flexibility is the key to staying sane.  And I mean more than just the ability to touch your toes.

4.  The universe has a funny way of surprising you.  Be open to all of it.
 
5.  Nothing in life, and I do mean absolutely nothing, is linear.  At least not for very long.

6.  A night's sleep (not necessarily a good night either) is the best way to gain clarity.

7.  Don't live a sloppy life.  Live with intention and thoughtfulness.  Apply that idea to your words, your activities, and all the choices you might encounter.

8.  Remember that your perspective isn't always correct.

9.  Realize that life won't always be kind to you and you won't always be happy and fulfilled.  Do the next thing anyway and try not to think too much.

10.  Don't.  Think.  So.  Much.
       *just live*

My Race

I went for a run tonight.  First time in almost 5 weeks.  I'm sure I've written about running here before so going for a run isn't a new or particularly exciting topic.  But it's been a rocky few weeks leading up to this evening's run.

Back story:  I've always run.  So the idea of running in the annual Hood to Coast relay was not a stretch for me.  In fact, it was something I'd wanted to do since I was about 20.  But then I was pregnant or nursing for about 15 years and I moved out of state for a while, and well, it just never happened.  Last fall, however, I signed up with a group of friends and started training.  Nice and steady miles, increasing over the course of many months.  I was ready.  I was golden.  Yeah, but then one week before the race I ended up with a wicked case of bronchitis that morphed into pneumonia and the accompaniments of such disease.  I was a coughing, feverish, wheezing mess.  I had to tap out of the race only two days before the start.  Two rounds of antibiotics, several refilled prescriptions of Teslon pearls, inhaled steroids, regular steroids, and God knows what else medicine, and I'm finally on the mend.

And so tonight I ran.

This ended up more than a physical run though.  I cried as I ran.  I think the whole thing was representative of something else.  I think, actually I'm sure, that this run was what I needed to put necessary distance between one life and a new life.  Oh, I know what you're thinking now after reading that.  It might just seem that I'm trying to outrun reality. No such chance of that, I'm afraid.  Reality and I are well acquainted.  Reality meets me everyday when I get up for work. Or when I run kids hither and yon.  Or when I pay the bills.  Or when I risk stagnant security for happiness.  Yes, reality and I know each other well.

This was a strange summer for me.  Probably the strangest, most amazing, most enlightening, most magical (and I don't use that word flippantly either) season that I've ever experienced.  Really.  It was painful and raw and sweet and hilarious all at the same time.  I came face to face with many things that I needed to get resolved.  Things that needed to be let go of.  Things that needed to be recognized.  Things that needed to be fixed.  It was almost as if I could stand back and look at my life from another person's perspective and see things more clearly than I think I ever had.  It was a scary and cathartic experience, for sure. I wouldn't change one minute of it either.

Now I see which direction I'm running, and that direction is towards the future.  Away from what's in the past.  I will undoubtedly trip or get lost or even hurt myself while I run.  But I've trained smart and I'll just keep on heading in that direction.  Nothing is chasing me so I don't have to run hard or fast to get away.  I just need to keep my feet moving forward and looking at what's in front of me.  And I love the view.

Telephone

There's this game we used to play in Girl Scouts when I was, well, a girl.  It was called Telephone.  Everyone sat in a circle and one person started the game by whispering a short sentence to the person sitting beside them.  Then that person whispered what they had heard to the person sitting next to them.  And around and around the circle went the whispered sentence until the very last person was expected to repeat, out loud, what had been whispered in their ear.  Usually, the end result was so far from the original words that everyone had a good laugh at how the sentence had completely morphed into something new and entirely different.

It was a fun game.

I think we still play this game as adults.  But now the end results are not nearly as funny, probably due to the fact that it's not a game anymore.  Seems like we just repeat things without actually hearing what's being said.

So much of the time we tend to interject our own take on a story, despite not knowing the real truth.  We might also put a little personal spin on the details, because let's face it, sometimes it's a better story with a little extra embellishment.  Am I right?  Other times we like to contribute our own opinion on what's been said because our opinions are important.  At least we like to think so.

Yeah, I think we definitely still play this game.  Just seems like no one's laughing at the end now.