Originality

I drew the following quote from a pile of paper strips on the library table at Emandal, CA.  I was attending a writer’s workshop and this was a writing challenge we were to do.  My thoughts follow the quote.

Originality does not consist of saying what no one has ever said before, but in saying exactly what you think yourself.  J F Stephen

There really is nothing new under the sun, unless perhaps you trip upon some kind of mutated wonder but then it might just be an alien!  Heaven knows, there’ve been aliens around since the beginning of time.

No, when you want to consider something original, one just has to dig deep.  I mean, really deep; deeper than the pit of your stomach that grips when you have to do something you’ve never done before and deeper than any meditation where you are grounded to the center of the earth.  You really can’t go any further because, if you did, then you’d come out the other side and then it wouldn’t be deep because you aren’t in the center of the Earth anymore.  ‘Course you could go on out into deep space but that would be pretty far away from the subject after all.

No, this thing called originality has to come from an undocumented space within your being which is more like inter-cellular space, and all the way to the primal beginnings of your cells, where you don’t know who you are anymore and you have to sit there until you recognize the building blocks which are you and you alone.  Think on all the possibilities and how your family has given you the DNA substance that fused with the friction of your mom and dad’s contribution to your existence.  I mean, you can see the chancy business of creation when you look at any brothers and sisters and see how different you came out.

You might as well relax and enjoy the fact that you are an original.  The chances of your being replicated are only dreamed of in science fiction.  I mean, sure there’s cloning, but the scientists haven’t gotten there yet.  Nope, YOU are an original so if you just say what you think and describe what your unique eyes see, well then, you’ll be giving us a whole different perspective than anyone else, and that’ll be, right on, original!

So go on now, just do it!

Raindrop Philosophy

Two days of gentle rain has refreshed the spring smells in the garden.  Middle-sized roses hang their heads heavy with the collected moisture, and young buds seem perkier.  The rain came through so quietly, I barely noticed its patter on the deck.

I wonder if there is a raindrop somewhere who falls screaming from the sky, so full of anxiety about where it’s going and what it’s going to feel like when it gets there?  I wonder, does it worry about who it will meet?  Does a raindrop see itself as whole or as shattering and splintering when it crashes into windshields, windows?  Or does it feel like part of a new existence when it hits a puddle then is splattered by tires or the rubber boots of small children?

I’d like to think it get lessons in this when it’s part of the heavenly sky; quick classes in how to be a successful raindrop!   Is there a greater consciousness surrounding it and letting it know it will never be lost, only changed again and again, and asked to acquiesce each time?

I think it must just let loose, surrender to the fall, comforted with the thought that it will flow with others, blend with whatever it touches, and find a common ground so as to be absorbed into the atmosphere when the sun comes out.

What a blessing to have that knowing.  Perhaps it would be akin to a sense of peace.

It Is Done and Now I've Begun, Again

     Even before my home went on the market in August of 2012, my main focus was on preparations for my eventual move.  I sorted through tools and boxes of building supplies as well as material, yarn, beads, canned goods, papers and more papers. 

     I sorted through my emotions as well.  Grief, anger at having my life changed, anxiety regarding what’s next, frustration that nothing seemed to be falling into place, and many more pounded or danced across my psyche.  My faith wobbled.  My self-confidence soared and nose-dived.  Resentment regarding so many issues surfaced again and again.  I’ve trudged through days not wanting to make one more decision regarding anything. 

     One major thing I did for myself was to experience each and every emotion when it surfaced within me.  If I hadn’t, I think I would have popped a blood vessel somewhere or had a heart attack.  I might have embraced some kind of disabling disease to avoid what I felt I had to do.

    Today, I’m sitting in a lovely bedroom/study with a bathroom bigger than my office used to be and a walk-in closet about the same size.  I have a deck off the sliding glass door into a yard profuse with roses and all manner of flowers.  I moved off the hill in Laytonville and landed in a rented space at The Flower Farm, and I couldn’t be happier or more surprised at where I have been and where I am.

     At a recent meeting of my Bereavement Group (now known as the Hospice Hotties), I was asked “How did you know you had to do this?  What was the deciding factor that moved you to make so many changes?” 

     Answers don’t come easy to these kinds of searching questions, and they are never formed by one single sentence.  I had to span the last several years for events which now, from hindsight, contributed to my sitting with less responsibilities than I’ve ever experienced.  I had many options for answers, but I had to shrug my shoulders and admit that maybe there was just a simple answer.  Maybe I made it through these last months and years of life-altering changes simply because I like to rearrange the furniture.  I’ve had to accept the fact that some part of me always seems to want variety in my life: a new view, a different chair seating, or an additional seasoning in a classic recipe.  When I can’t do this, I get restless.

     I never wanted my step-daughter or husband or best friend to die, nor did I want other dear friends to move away.  The ultimate rearranging of my life was the Universe’s choice; I just decided to keep the changes going, and, quite honestly, there were days I thought I might go crazy from the stress and often dove under the covers for sanctuary. 

    Looking back, I can see the seeds for the need to move and change my way of life being planted long before the losses began.  I had begun talking to Y regarding plans for our ‘later’ years’ in 2008.  I was proud we lived off the grid with wood heat and solar power, but I was tired of long winters nursing one light on at a time and the constant search and prep for fire wood.  I’d been in one place for 30 years (even tho we had traveled often), and I wanted to rearrange my life.  Having lived as a military brat till I was 15 and then moved with my first husband to Europe then back and forth across the country, I had to admit 35 moves by the time I turned 35 gave me some experience for this adventure.  This bolstered my confidence.  Looking at all I’d done in 60 plus years helped me realize I had the capability to sell most everything and start over again.  With the support of a capable pair of hands attached to a fantastic helper named Maggie and other friends who offered advice and encouragement, I made it.

     So, here I sit in a gorgeous location with massive pots of flowers and arrangements everywhere, very comfortably getting organized and setting my sights on the rest of my life.

The Making Of All Things

     Wrestling with the concept of moving on, I have had to look at the reality of leaving behind the ashes of my late husband, the body of Sapa, our dog, and my uterus (That’s another story).  All were buried with good intentions, promises and tears.  In my mind, all would be turned over to the care of the next owner of this land.  That is until I realized the possibility of someone purchasing this land who had no intention of living here, only growing marijuana here.

     The fact that many came with those plans for the land left me with the guilt that I am reneging on my responsibilities to these once living beings, as well as the vows Y and I had made when we dedicated this corner of the word as a healing center.  We offered seminars like, “Your Footprints are Your Own” and “Talking to A Stone:”, plus Reiki classes.  We were hosts to groups from the Bay Area who came for retreats from AA and NA.  We sponsored regular Inipi and pipe ceremonies, as well as offered space for Yuwipi. 

     My prayers softened from demanding someone to live on the land much as we had lived here to someone who would live here and like the house and ecosystem.  I could leave at least with a clearer mind.  Someone has come with that intention, and I am thrilled.  Now I have had to find my best way to turn it over to her, with good heart.

     Early in our time on the land, Y planted two cedar trees.  He wanted a constant supply of this sacred leaf for smudging.  One has grown well and needed limbing last year to comply with the requirements for fire control.  I dried the branches then stripped the needles into a box.

     As I worked on this process, it came to me that this tree was nourished by the Earth and the Earth had been nourished by everything which had been buried within her.   She’s the real deal with regards to recycling and reusing.  Then I felt the sorrow she must feel from all the toxic chemicals known to have been buried into her soil and streams.  I was grateful I had been able to add the love of my dog and late husband into her being.

     They had become mulch, much like Ernie, the oak leaf, in my newest short story, Living On A Limb.  They were part of the bushes and trees and ultimately the air I was breathing and not just here, but everywhere.  They were transformed.

     And I realized I could live anywhere.  I could be touched by their essences where ever I went.  In a way, as I released my limited view of their burial sites, I set them freer, as well as myself.

You CAN Teach an Old Gal Some New Tricks

     Housekeeping is not one of my fortes, but keeping three bedrooms, a bathroom, kitchen, and living room staged for perspective buyers for seven months has taught me a few lessons.

     I found it almost impossible to empty the windowsills of statuary and mementos I’d received from friends and giveaways over the years.  I delayed the process until after I’d sorted through the pottery collection and sold or gave away various pieces I hadn’t used in forever.  Then the thought came to me that I hadn’t used all the candle holders displayed here and there.  I decided to store away my very favorite ones and pass out the remaining 'chatchkees' to friends who visited.  The women of my New Moon Circle received crystals and once I got into the swing of it, I enjoyed watching people discover their own treasures among all that had been mine.  Lesson:  Less is more

   That clearing of the surfaces is what led me to feel the spaciousness of my living room.  Removing all the items that had been hanging in the windows let in more light too.  The increased light and space led to another level of calmness to the point now that a bit of squirrely energy sits in my belly when too much is left on the kitchen table, the side tables or the dressers.  I even have to restack piles into better order in my office these days, rather than let papers just hang out.  Lesson:  Clean horizontal surfaces reduce stress.

   With my mind having its bright and dull patches, I discovered myself agreeing with me on permanent homes for, not just the keys, but thimbles, sewing utensils, my hair brush, purse, and bills.   I can find most things again, although shoes are rascally fellows who don’t seem to want to stay in their corner of the hall or bedroom.  I have to work harder on them.  Lesson: Use it and put it back in its place

   I’ve found my various enterprises like to hang out together.  Knitting likes its own bag as does the scrap quilt project.  Each writing assignment feels more complete when all the materials are in one folder and a three ring binder.  When a piece of paper surfaces with writing for the health center newsletter or one of the several novels or shorts stories I’m working on, I don’t shuffle it anymore.  It goes with its friends, at least by the end of the day.  Lesson:  Don’t hide it or let it slide

   I have several paper bags for those items I used to puzzle over.  Now each item has five seconds to identify itself so its destination can be judged: thrift store, packing box, transfer station, burn pile. No more saved round plastic tubs from the grocery store, either.   I’m using canning jars of all sizes as refrigerator storage.  Lesson: A Little consciousness goes a long way

   When the bags are full, they are transported out to the car for distribution.  I don’t set aside the questionable anymore or put them into a corner or let them take up residence in a drawer.  Lesson: Keep it moving out the door.

   The overall teaching is simple.  “I’m moving on” and so is all my stuff.