January 7. Day 7 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I think I have to stop counting the days. It makes everything feel more difficult than they actually are. And I have to stop thinking of this as a challenge. I write for the pleasure of it. It is not a job. I am not selling or promoting anything. I am not good at explaining how anything works. There’s much written or am being written about how things work and what is good for us. There is no need for me to do the same. I shall take a big deep breath, relax and just let the words flow. No need to worry if it is a good topic or if anybody will read it. If the words won’t cooperate, I might have to work and coax them out.
My partner like to build things. He built our passive solar greenhouse. Then a shed with a living roof. Right now he’s building a boat. He’s built two before. I like to build, too. Building is a man thing but it is also a woman thing. We use different tools. Oh, some of us use hammers and saws, too, but I like to use my keyboard and Bernini. I build with words that turn into sentences, paragraphs and hopefully into a post and a story. I haven’t aim toward a book – yet. It’s not an impossibility but I like things short and snappy. It’s like my quilt squares or little paintings. Each can stand on its own or I can put them together to form a quilt, an album and if I have enough posts, I could build a book.
It’s a pretty good idea, no? Right now I’m very disorganized and helter skelter but not so much that I can’t make a start on it. It is never too late and there is no perfect time to start. Starting is the operative word. I’ve written 3 posts on my travel to Ghana in 2011. I could use my photos to jog my memory to write more this month. It would be useful to have a theme for each month’s posts. The trick is getting started. Once started, I am often surprised how easy it is. One thing leads to another and I find myself on something different than I had intended. But I take it. I like the pleasure of being surprised by myself. I like the pleasure of starting. It gives me a sense of direction, a sense of purpose.
I am feeling somewhat despondent off and on these days. I am not fighting it but I am not letting it overtake me either. I am still able to not rain on another’s parade. I am not at all full of vim and vigor. I am full of languor. I would like to just sink into a puddle. I don’t. I plod along as best as I can. It takes me longer to do anything. I am not saying, this, too, shall pass or this is normal. Nothing feels normal any more. It is not a bad thing. It makes me look at life with new eyes. I still have the passion for a well-lived life.
How do you react, what happens, when you believe that thought?
Who would you be without that thought?
They are very good questions to ask. I should ask them more often. They made think about how I would be without my thoughts and feelings of despondency. They stirred me enough to show up here to engage in some words. I had fallen somewhat out of love with them lately. I had lost a sense of purpose for them. I started to question, what does it matter anyways? Who reads them anyways? Then I remember that I write mostly for myself, to help and guide me out of these moods. So I ask myself: How would I be without these thoughts and feelings?
I would be more cheerful and positive. I would have a sense of purpose and direction. I would have more energy. I could move and not be stuck and mired in thoughts and feelings. I could get things done. I experimented and tested letting go. Did I tell you I finally called the plumber and got the kitchen drain unplugged? Well, I did. And everything went whoosh down the drain. More than a few dollars went that way, too. I thought: Do I want to hang onto those dollars and sewage or can I let them go. I have to admit fixing the plumbing is one of the most satisfying feelings in life.
I am feeling a bit better, more lively, but not ready to do a jig yet. I got a few ugly jobs done, like chucking out some Jerusalem artichokes fermenting in brine from last year. The thing with storing things out of sight is they become out of mind. They did pop up in my head once in a while but I quickly banished them. Today I brought them out into the light. They weren’t terrible looking but they weren’t pretty either. They were soggy with a layer of white stuff on top. They say that it’s normal when fermenting vegetables. They are now in the compost.
The kombacha was next on my list. I can’t remember when I had stop drinking and making it. I had a few jars sitting under my kitchen buffet. In one jar, the kombacha became a scoby. It was still viable. The next jar had completely dried up, including the scoby. I had to soak and scrape it out. My biggest jar still had some very strong kombacha with bunch of scobies. My first impulse was to rid it all but then I thought I shouldn’t throw out the baby with the bath water. So I saved one scoby and 1/3 cup of kombacha, brewed some fresh tea to make a new batch. I will see how it turns out. Maybe it will be delicious. Life is hard.
Sometimes you have to get lost to find yourself. That is so with me. Before that, I never knew how cocooned and protected – how lucky I was. I was in a fool’s paradise. You can just imagine my distress when I lost myself – adrift in the universe.
I’ve been lost all my life without my knowing it. I’ve been navigating at life’s wheel without a map, compass or a GPS. I thought I could just guess, estimate and give it stab and get there. Well, guess what? Big surprise – I CAN’T.
At least I know THAT much now – a step in the right direction as they say. I’m awake and aware, my feet planted solidly on the ground like my sunflowers. I’m standing tall and erect. I know where the sun rises. Look east, young woman, look east. See which way those yellow heads are facing. Take heed. Now that you know, do not keep on trucking down the same wrong road. Try a different path. Remember to do that for the rest of your life. It’s a hard task, I know. But it’s worth your effort.