Been distracted today. Not highly anxious, but finding it hard to focus. Which is not good for doing Latin. This will pass. I have an appointment with a urologist on April 27th and my new PSA numbers will come in today or tomorrow. More information.
Kate has said, long before I began hearing it everywhere, “It is what it is.” True. No amount of fretting will make the reality any different. Still. It is my reality and it is, at least potentially, my mortality.
I’m recording this more for myself, for later. A peg to measure reactions. Not unaffected, but not depressed, sad, worried. Distracted. The best word.
Quick note to say I’ve moved past the mood of the last post. Business meeting this morning with Kate at the Wildflower. We shared some of our mutual vulnerabilities: mortality, worthiness, relationships with kids and grandkids. In that unusual alchemy of love vulnerabilities shared become a source of strength and self-forgiveness. 25 years now of letting each other in, hearing and the seeing each other, loving each other. A gift beyond measure.
Both Kate and I feel like we’re ahead of what we’d expected in terms of getting stuff liberated, sorted and placed. We’re maybe 60% unpacked in the house, somewhere between 40 and 50% in the loft and very little in the garage, which will probably wait until spring.
Had a bit of a scare last night when the dogs rushed inside ahead of us after we returned from the science fair. The dogs’ feet carried in snow which quickly melted and Kate slipped right at the door and fell. Scared me for her, with two metal hips. Fortunately, she has strong bones, no osteoporosis, and walked away with a skinned shin. Yikes.
This morning I got up and put a new indoor/outdoor rug down in the front of the door. We’ll do that at the other two entrances as well. All tile makes sense with the snowy weather here, part of the charm, but it also makes slipperiness an issue. Part of getting used to a new space, a new climate.
A light snow last night covered the driveway and our small deck. With the temps forecast into the high 40’s or low 50’s tomorrow and the next day, I’m going to see whether it will melt without shoveling. An experiment. Getting used to a new place.
Belongings had to be shuttled in by U-Haul truck. Van wouldn’t fit in the driveway. An extra, healthy charge.
New place, new persona. Anger, not helpful. I looked up the serenity prayer, took off the first word and went through this wise sentence many times. “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change: the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.”
So. Could I adjust the size of the van or the length and width of our driveway? No. Pay the cost, then. Greet the driver and the movers as allies in our move. Which they are.
The dogs, whose crates would be exposed to the wind through open garage doors, I could help. I cut up emptied boxes and taped them around their crates as a wind barrier. Unexpected result? Quiet, peaceful dogs. Something I could change.
Kate and I had a nice lunch while the movers are packing the remainder of the load into the U-Haul truck, got some rest and can still laugh. The Colorado me.
Back from Groveland. A period put now to ministry. The Woollies showed up en masse thanks to Ode’s organizing. The conversation after Purity of Heart Is to Will One Thing was solid, engaging. Interesting. And deep.
Told Kate that with the docents, the Woollies and the Groveland send-offs I feel affirmed. She said I could gloat if I wanted. No, I said. Affirmation is adequate. More than adequate, she said. Yes. Affirmation is enough.
It means that somehow the sum of how I’ve shown up in the world has been a positive for some people. Enough.
We have transitioned to a new zone. The deadline for finishing our packing is Sunday because the packers come on Monday. I don’t like deadlines. I clutch (as I would have said in the 1960s). This means gears grind and my ability to make good decisions declines. That’s why I wanted to have two years to make the move. That way, I could manage a shorter time frame as we made it possible.
Fortunately, Kate’s gears engage just when mine begin to slip. She’s got lists and her purposeful walk and good humor. I feel pressure and would prefer not to. She’s great in a crisis. I like planning. We are yin and yang though sometimes she’s yang and I’m yin, other times the opposite. We bring different parts of our psyche to bear at different times. An altogether good thing.
Breakfast at Key’s with Woolly Frank Broderick. He gave us a bowl by Robert Big Elk with smudge in it for purifying the new house. There were also six prayer ties for protection on our journey a week from Friday.
My first introduction to Frank was his shamanic drumming, 20+ years ago. I’ve gone on many shamanic voyages to his drums over the years. He walks with the Lakota people as a friend and ally.
Frank’s a Celtic guy, as am I, he more purely than me. My Germanic heritage is probably stronger genetically and reinforced by upbringing, but it was not the heritage I embraced when I began writing over 25 years ago. It was the Celtic.
Not sure why I made that choice at this late point, but I know that the Celtic world felt and feels very close to my soul’s journey, especially in its intimate linkage to the natural world. Of course, if I’m honest, the Germanic scholarly mind has made an equally strong imprint. I’m a combination of the two: wildly passionate and captive of a need for scholarly precision. An uneasy mix.
Sadness, I’ve learned, is a measure of value. As we love, so are we sad. I’m sad to leave Frank behind, as soul brother and as political fellow traveler.
Spent some time packing this morning. Not astonishing. I decided to start at the west wall of the basement and work my way east, packing my way to the garden study. This way, when I finish this time, I will be finished.
This action, rather than thinking about acting or about the need to act or about the things that might go wrong if I don’t act, further relieved my anxiety.
A certain low level of anxiety hangs around the hallways of my psyche pegged to minor things of which I am aware, yet have not engaged. In this case they are the items I’ve not packed, most small or clumsy. My goal now is to strip those things from the hallways and out of my need to attend to them at all.
I don’t know whether this strategy will achieve inner peace for me, but it should end up with everything in a box or ready for the movers to pack.
Business meeting at Keys. Money’s on track. We have plenty of time to get things done. My anxiety level returned to normal after our time together. Normal means low to none, even for me. My anxiety disorder is situational, not triggered constantly. Given the stress levels associated with moves I’d say my anxiety has been about what I could expect.
This shared time together, focused on the pragmatics of our common life, schedule, money, how we’re feeling, has become a necessary and substantial part of our life. It allows us to deal with potential problems before they get big and to prevent most of them altogether. Thanks, Ruth.
Over the past seven and a half months we have lived with loss: friends, memories, arts and cultural opportunities, our home, even the belongings we have jettisoned. Our decision to move opened deep fissures in our day to day reality.
A turning point in this experience of loss came when Kate found our new home on Black Mountain Drive. At last we had a concrete spot, a place toward which our work aimed. Until then the consequences of our decision weighted toward grief, even though the decision itself was about joy and adventure.
This is, for me at least, a deep learning. That is, choices we make will often (always?) lead us away from as well as towards. When we move away from, we leave behind relationships, places, things and there is grief with each loss. This is not negative, just true. And grief is not bad, it reflects the bonds formed and now sundered. Grief readjusts our psyche to a life without whatever it was we left behind.
Now that the packing is almost done and the leaving Minnesota day is just two weeks away, my heart has begun to turn to Colorado and our new life. I’m feeling a sense of release from my life here, a release made easier by gentle leave takings, by having enough time to say farewells. There is a delight made more delicate and precious by knowing I can leave without regret.
Again, thank you to all who read this: especially the fellow docents: Tom, Allison, Jane, Morry, Sally, Bill, Vicki, Joanne, Kathleen, Lisa, Marcia, Joy, Mary, Antra, Cheryl, Florence, Ginny, Sharon, Carreen, Wendy, the Woollies: Tom, Mark, Bill, Frank, Stefan, Scott, Warren, and the sheepshead guys: Roy, Bill, Dick and Ed. You have made leaving a source of nurture and grief the solace it is meant to be.
