Afraid

It's funny, being that I haven't lived in my old house for almost a full year, that I am feeling so upset by its destruction. For the past several years that house was no longer a place of comfort and peace. No, it had become a battlefield. Fighting for it and some semblance of permanence left me exhausted and bewildered and numb. Probably a little bit angry too. Someday I'll tell that part of the story.

 I was certainly expecting to feel a sense of loss for my family. We lost possessions. Jack lost his dream. With this fire we finished a chapter to our story. Yes, it was time for us to turn the page, for sure. But the emotions I am feeling are not what I anticipated.

 I don't know that I have ever felt more alone. This is ridiculous because my paltry possessions pale in comparison to so many other people's losses. We still have a beautiful home to live in. We are out from under the oppressive control of the benevolent dictator who tried to keep us in a state of grovelling. We are happy again. 

 I just can't shake this feeling of fear and loneliness though. I suppose because I've lived with the fear of being left and abandoned or forgotten for so many years that this tragedy only intensifies those fears. As a person who has never really felt that I belonged anywhere, the loss of this home just adds to that insecurity.  

 As difficult as the past years have been for me, I still found some comfort in the familiarity of that old house. Maybe it was a touchstone of sorts?  Probably.  I fought hard to make it mine and it was where I found out how strong I could be. It was also where I learned to pretend that I wasn't hurting and how to bury how I felt in order hide my vulnerability.  I don't like people to know how hurt I really feel.  Now that it's gone, I'm left with some emotional loose ends that probably need to be tied up.

Like everything else in life, I'm sure this is just a process that I have to muddle through and on the other side  I'll be fine. I just need some understanding, a hug, and the reassurance that I will be ok.

Real. Unedited and Unfiltered.

My view from Triangulation Peak earlier in the summer.  That was real.

I quit Facebook back at the beginning of quarantine. I mean, I've abandoned FB before so it's not a huge deal. This time I was craving a little more peace and solitude in my life. And maybe some privacy too. Seems like I was subject to "approval" for my life choices from people I didn't ask for an opinion. It was either "Leave me the f*&k alone and mind your own business" or close down my account. I chose the latter, being non confrontational and all. 

 I don't have any big epiphanies to share about my time away. Nothing profound changed in my life (I found TikTok!). It was quiet and I like that. 

 Social media does invade your mind, a little bit at a time. There is too much information constantly bombarding our lives. People's opinions, their carefully edited snapshots, unwanted input, unnecessary information, inaccurate facts....The list goes on and on. Sometimes all of this inspires but more often it dulls us and makes us cynical.

 As a person who has spent too much time in "the dark place" in recent years, I am learning to carefully guard where my time is now spent and where my mind goes to play. My real life, the one I get to actually participate in, is way too extraordinary to waste much time in an artificial cyber world.

"My" shop. 

 

 As much as I enjoy seeing pictures of people's vacations and their kids and their dogs, I have found that the view from my back patio is much more satisfying to me. Rather than spending hours getting caught up on everyone else's life, I'd rather spend time with my people and create a life with them.  

I read a few quotes that have really stuck with me:    

 No, Facebook (or Insta, or whatever your choice of social media might be) isn't bad. I'm definitely NOT saying that.  I think I'll even pop on occasionally and see what's happening.  

It's just that I crave real. Unfiltered, unedited real.  And social media falls short on that.

                                

Biggest bass I've every caught.  And Jake's finger.  And a Whatchamacallit and Coke.  Definitely unedited and unfiltered.

Sharing: Computers and Such.

My computer died. I've been using the same old MacBook for years and it finally gave up the ghost. Luckily, I've got someone pretty awesome who is willing to share with me in order to facilitate my rambling/writing. And I just finished a rather large iced coffee so I'm definitely in the rambling mode. I haven't written in a while. Probably because I've been too busy canning and gardening in this beautiful new place. And my laptop died (see above statement). And because I have valued my privacy much more than ever. Not just my own privacy either. I have a few things to talk about. Things like losing my job and finding balance. And FINALLY running Hood to Coast, albeit remotely. And maybe a few thoughts about finding balance in life. Did I mention finding balance? Seems to be a pretty big focus in these crazy, weird days. I'll get to all that pretty soon. Today I just want to focus on making all of my people happy and being certain they know how much I love them. I've got a new space, all my own, to write in and the time to set aside to make it happen. I also have a new driver who can do all of my errands for me so I never have to leave the house again unless I want to! Bliss, I tell you. My life is beautiful and good.

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.