Monday evening and so much to say

That last “authentic me” post was, if you couldn’t tell, written by Loose Chicken Dave. Loose Chicken Stephanie (yours truly) is not yet clever or calm enough to post a picture of a kitty, or to ponder absolute relaxation.

I am, however, in a better place than I was a few days ago. Bruce, Sam and Will came for dinner Friday. On Saturday morning we babysat the boys while Bruce went in to see Mom. Sam and Will are so different from each other yet they play together pretty well. Will adores and admires Sam, yet is also very much his own person, surprisingly content to sit alone making shhhh shhh battle noises for long periods of time. Sam is an artist and a web-surfer and thought it was the coolest thing that someone left a checkbook cover in the “free” section at the dump. Will couldn’t decide what to bring home, so the default was that if Sam wanted it Will decided he wanted it too. A fine recipe for conflict, but they worked it out, with a little refereeing.

They left in the early afternoon and though the visit had been less than 24 hours, I was exhausted. I know people say it’s different when it’s your own children, but I’m pretty sure I was not cut out for parenting. I felt I’d had not a moment of reflective time, eesh. And yet I'm so glad to have seen them. Best moment was right after they arrived. Will says to Sam: "Want to go up to our room?" They've been here just once before, and already it's "their" room. That felt really good. But I am a person who needs pretty significant down time. Maybe it's the introvert's way; maybe just something about my personality or biology. At any rate, it's consistently true that I need solitude in between "people" times.

By evening we were recovered enough to go to Anne and Bennet’s solstice party. This was lovely; we met some non-church people, and I particularly enjoyed talking with Susan McPhee. She and Matthew lived in Sydney for 8 years, where she learned a lot about aboriginal life. She talked about their art which depicts aerial views of the land; this by people who never had an opportunity to see anything from the air. It was an imaginative act, made possible by the presence of time and space to think. Also, each member of society had a few natural things to, in a sense, care for. My objects might be a type of tree and corn and a rock; yours would be certain other things. Made me want to learn more about these people.

Sunday was spent puttering. I worked mostly in my study, putting away files and emptying boxes and arranging furniture. My imaginative act is to make this “room of my own” into the kind of space I really want it to be. Margie suggested identifying an atmosphere or environment to use as inspiration. My current image is “yoga retreat.”

This is an interesting process for me, requiring overriding an old habit of saying, “Okay, I need bookshelves; let’s go get some.” “Hey, there’s a rug that would work; I’ll buy it.” This piecemeal habit leads to exactly the kind of spaces I usually live in: functional, maybe partially aesthetic, but not at all thematic or integrated. Just a bunch of stuff collected in a room. I am going to try to do this one differently. This means cultivating patience (books may not be on shelves as quickly as I’d like), yet also keeping the project moving (rather than plopping down at the computer and getting on with life, because the room is “good enough”). Perhaps I can use this space to try something new, right now from the beginning.

And there’s a whole ‘nother thing to write about, which is this morning’s conversation with Liz Gaufberg. More on that later, or maybe tomorrow…

I’m feeling that familiar tug between sharp focus and soft focus, activity and rest, “do” and “be.” Plan is to leave in half an hour for an evening yoga class with Dave. I could spend that half hour writing writing writing, but I think I’d rather sit with what I’ve just recorded, and hold the rest for next time. No wonder I often feel life has gotten away from me. There’s so much to record if you really try to capture it. Like, I haven’t written/reflected any more yet about Mom and her stem cell transplant and my relationship with her, so that’s in the queue as well. And Liz, well she evoked all kinds of thoughts about Spa for the Spirit projects and possible collaborations for the near-term. As in our prior conversations I emerged energized.

At times like this, Walden Year feels like an oasis in the desert. I could just write and write and write. Yet I also want to see friends, work on the house (my room and other rooms that need “atmosphere” or just plain furniture), do yoga, study meditation, read books, cook really good food, follow up on cool ideas that come from conversations with people like Liz, etc etc etc etc. How will it all fit together? Time will tell, I trust. First thing is to breathe.