Two days ago we were sweltering in 90 degrees. Since then the thermometer hasn’t risen past 62, and at night we’re down in the 40’s and happy to light fires in the stove. Good thing we turned Al and Agnes’ would-be outhouse into a woodshed these past couple of summers. We’ve got plenty of wood to enjoy fires this month!
Each morning we wake up “whenever.” Often I first open my eyes before dawn, then try to doze until there are traces of light in the sky, signifying that it’s at least 6:30 or maybe closer to 7am. When we’re lucky we catch a glimpse of a pinkish orangeish sunrise. The day begins with coffee – half-caf on our new regime -- but not before feeding the dog, who is ecstatic that we FINALLY got up.
Each day then unfolds as it will. Depending on the weather, there may be brush-cutting or kayaking or wood-chopping, walk/runs, yoga and reading. A couple of times a week we go to town for food and errands, and once a week David takes his Triumph to Chassell to get our mail packet.
The pace of everything is leisurely and the scenery is just fantastic. Just about every day one or both of us says, “Isn’t this beautiful?”
Sometimes it is disconcerting to be this “unprogrammed” and therefore present to our truer selves. But even in the uncomfortable moments I am so sure this is important time. Long may it resonate.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Friday, August 1, 2008
First Day
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Its finally begun, our "Adventure Year". Our long awaited time for ourselves. As of today, no one has the prerogative to call us to their emergencies. Two years ago we began such a "sabbatical" only to be called back to work, vocation, and the continued meaning of ministry. But now literally years later we are again at the beginning of this strange trek we call Walden Year. I feel a sense of excitement while at the same time a deepening sense of calm.
I savor every minute.
Its difficult to plan the way ahead for we really do not know the geography. Without maps or even a compass we are led on only by our instinct for simplicity and and our desire for self direction. The question, "What are your plans?" although seemingly innocent is quite close to an insult right now. Perhaps in time we will rise above such defensiveness--but for now I want to live free!
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
catching up
Loose Chicken Stephanie here.
I haven't been writing; not sure why. It seems such a fertile time to record thoughts, feelings, experience. Came across a piece Margie gave me a couple of months ago about using the kitchen timer as a writer's aid. During a "writing hour" you set the timer, then allow no interruptions. No phone (easy), no email checking (harder), no internet. At all. The only documents you may have open are your current project and your journal. Certainly there are internet temptations. It's right here on the same machine. Fantasy Baseball, my great time waster since April, is calling every time games are being played, which is part of every day.
But more than that, it's getting over some kind of inertia, I think. This blog is like a journal, not completely private but pretty private. So far only Dave and I know about it, and we will probably keep it that way. That's what I've assumed so far. These posts are not for the world; they are for me, and for Dave.
So July has been a month of shape-shifting. Gradually shedding the parish ministry identity (again), supporting Mom as she becomes increasingly independent, setting up the business details of our new house (and there are so many of these), stripping wallpaper, doing yoga (literal shape shifting!).
Tonight we are going to have dinner with Jory and Jeb and Gretchen. We did this two years ago also in July, and I'm realizing ruefully that we were in the same place, having just shed parish ministry and intending to take a break to see what might emerge. What emerged all too quickly last time was two more years of church. Yes, it was not solo ministry and no, I don't regret it. Last time, just as Work Less, Live More predicted, was kind of a practice departure from church life. Now we get another change, and perhaps we're more ready this time. Or less likely to be tempted back before the experiment really takes root.
Our copies of Walden arrived the other day. I hadn't realized Thoreau died when he was only 44. He went into the woods at 30. His writing was not much appreciated while he was alive, but became influential later, and remains so. You never know.
Here is my baby step beginning at writing again. I will try to do *something* every day, with the possible exception of our travel days to Otter Lake. We're leaving Sunday!! Will be lovely to go back to that clean air, cooler weather (hopefully) and our wonderful all ours cottage. By next Tuesday we should be there. Wahoo!!
Meanwhile, a new commitment to write.
I haven't been writing; not sure why. It seems such a fertile time to record thoughts, feelings, experience. Came across a piece Margie gave me a couple of months ago about using the kitchen timer as a writer's aid. During a "writing hour" you set the timer, then allow no interruptions. No phone (easy), no email checking (harder), no internet. At all. The only documents you may have open are your current project and your journal. Certainly there are internet temptations. It's right here on the same machine. Fantasy Baseball, my great time waster since April, is calling every time games are being played, which is part of every day.
But more than that, it's getting over some kind of inertia, I think. This blog is like a journal, not completely private but pretty private. So far only Dave and I know about it, and we will probably keep it that way. That's what I've assumed so far. These posts are not for the world; they are for me, and for Dave.
So July has been a month of shape-shifting. Gradually shedding the parish ministry identity (again), supporting Mom as she becomes increasingly independent, setting up the business details of our new house (and there are so many of these), stripping wallpaper, doing yoga (literal shape shifting!).
Tonight we are going to have dinner with Jory and Jeb and Gretchen. We did this two years ago also in July, and I'm realizing ruefully that we were in the same place, having just shed parish ministry and intending to take a break to see what might emerge. What emerged all too quickly last time was two more years of church. Yes, it was not solo ministry and no, I don't regret it. Last time, just as Work Less, Live More predicted, was kind of a practice departure from church life. Now we get another change, and perhaps we're more ready this time. Or less likely to be tempted back before the experiment really takes root.
Our copies of Walden arrived the other day. I hadn't realized Thoreau died when he was only 44. He went into the woods at 30. His writing was not much appreciated while he was alive, but became influential later, and remains so. You never know.
Here is my baby step beginning at writing again. I will try to do *something* every day, with the possible exception of our travel days to Otter Lake. We're leaving Sunday!! Will be lovely to go back to that clean air, cooler weather (hopefully) and our wonderful all ours cottage. By next Tuesday we should be there. Wahoo!!
Meanwhile, a new commitment to write.
Friday, July 4, 2008
The vast sea not yet traveled.
Theologian Karl Rahner once wrote, "...what is called knowledge in everyday parlance, is only a small island in a vast sea that has not been traveled... "
When one is constrained by obligations to others or to preordained schedules it is easy to imagine that we don't have the freedom or time ("free time") to pursue knowledge beyond the security of our little island of knowledge. But once freed of such excuses it is humbling to realize how often we would far rather be miserable than to change.
Liberate me from the chains of my island of routine, O Lord, and let me see the world as it is-- unfettered by my conventions and self assurances.
.
I want to see what's out there.
Monday, June 23, 2008
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.
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.
Sometimes I feel the more I grow in my lifetime the more complicated it becomes to find my core self. Whenever I take the time to "get away" and relax fully, I rediscover this real person that is authentically ME. Its as if I have always been there, patiently waiting for the rest of me to become more attentive. I imagine there are those who say such a daemon doesn't exist. But when my life is calm and simplified I always recognize with delight this sense of an unchanging soul. Here I have all the cofidence and energy I need. Today I stumbled on this quote that seems apt:
"The Absolute enters into, but is itself incapable of, evolution." --Francis H. Bradley
Friday, June 20, 2008
I did it!
It's about 5pm on Friday, and the only thing on that whole &^%* list I didn't do was call Laurie. Amazing. Sorry Laurie girlfriend; it's not that I don't love seeing you. It's the introvert thing. I felt better focussing on that list of stuff than making a social date, which would have to be at a particular time on a particular day. Plus we had a SC party last night, Bruce and boys coming tonight/tomorrow, and party at Anne and Bennet's tomorrow night. Throw in a trip to MGH and I'm cooked.
Nonetheless, I was able to knock off those tasks that were jumbled up in my head, plus we went to Arlington and finished cleaning the apartment, and I had a little study tinkering time. So that's all very satisfying. And I am looking forward to seeing Bruce. And Sam and Will, though that's a little more challenging because at 8 and 5 they're such... boys. Always Doing Stuff yet not old enough to be independent. But they're my nephews, I love them and I want to have an actual relationship with them. So I'm glad they're coming.
Neither today nor yesterday counts as introspective, I'm afraid. Too many tasks. No yoga. Not more than a few minutes of sitting on the deck doing nothing.
But Mom was feeling better than she had in a week, so that made for an easy visit. The radio entertained me there and back, 70's and 80's music on the way in and Science Friday on the way back. She told an entertaining story about a bad chaplain, had eaten some real meals and had a little energy for the first time in awhile. Her big day yesterday consisted of twice getting out of bed to sit in a chair for an hour. As she was telling me about it I think she heard how small that accomplishment sounded, but for her it was significant. She who two weeks ago was walking 5 miles around the Mystic Lakes and doing several other things on the same day. This transplant process is quite punishing.
Okay, I think I'm going to sit on the deck and do nothing for a moment. Bruce will arrive any time now.
Nonetheless, I was able to knock off those tasks that were jumbled up in my head, plus we went to Arlington and finished cleaning the apartment, and I had a little study tinkering time. So that's all very satisfying. And I am looking forward to seeing Bruce. And Sam and Will, though that's a little more challenging because at 8 and 5 they're such... boys. Always Doing Stuff yet not old enough to be independent. But they're my nephews, I love them and I want to have an actual relationship with them. So I'm glad they're coming.
Neither today nor yesterday counts as introspective, I'm afraid. Too many tasks. No yoga. Not more than a few minutes of sitting on the deck doing nothing.
But Mom was feeling better than she had in a week, so that made for an easy visit. The radio entertained me there and back, 70's and 80's music on the way in and Science Friday on the way back. She told an entertaining story about a bad chaplain, had eaten some real meals and had a little energy for the first time in awhile. Her big day yesterday consisted of twice getting out of bed to sit in a chair for an hour. As she was telling me about it I think she heard how small that accomplishment sounded, but for her it was significant. She who two weeks ago was walking 5 miles around the Mystic Lakes and doing several other things on the same day. This transplant process is quite punishing.
Okay, I think I'm going to sit on the deck and do nothing for a moment. Bruce will arrive any time now.
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