As usual, I've been posting a lot less frequently than I mean to. I have some pretty evening landscape pictures taken from our deck that no longer represent just how pretty it is here. Spring is racing by. The lilac is blooming, for heaven's sake! That being said, we're having a mix of cool and rainy days with the mild ones. And I like it.
When I was pulling together the photos I've taken recently for this post, I felt a little ashamed. Lately, I've been feeling discontented and confused. About a lot of things. In fact, this whole year, which started with unalloyed enthusiasm on my part, has been very hard. I've been sick a lot in body, and a little unwell in the heart. Every time I think I have identified "the problem" or "the solution" it slips out of my hands, and becomes a nothing, a passing thought, an empty idea. That being said I've also had some of the first true snatches of bliss, of joy, of thrilling pleasure and satisfaction with life that I've had in years. As I said dazedly to a friend the other day, "I feel like...wait, what are those people called with more than one personality?"
Lately I've been feeling yet another sort of disorientation. I thought I'd already sort of emerged from early motherhood to be a person AND a mom. But it turns out I'm still forcing my way out of that cocoon. You see if you haven't experienced, especially if you haven't remained at home with an infant, what happens is you live in another world. I mean, really truly other. You don't see as many people, you don't do as many things, because you don't have as much time or energy. Your big world shrinks down to a distilled microcosm. And within that intense little world, you adopt new habits and rhythms. I think people who have the luxury of being pregnant, and birthing, and childrearing at the same time with good friends have a modified version of this experience, more open. Not I. This week I was trying to get in touch with a friend to whom I haven't spoken in some time, and I paused as I wrote him to wonder if he would even know who I was. So I qualified my identity by adding my former place of employment for context. And then I felt embarrassed. He wrote me back right away saying I had just been present in his mind. So he knew me after all, and why shouldn't he? The point is that in the center of my brain that's used for placing me, myself and my life, in perspective within the world, there is a blank. I don't really know where I belong or who I am except within the walls of this house. And even here, I am a novice. I toyed with the idea the other day of revisiting my academic ambitions. There again, a blank. It was IMPOSSIBLE for me to imagine myself into that role. It's a very strange sensation. In the past I've complained that I can imagine myself into just about any role, so how could I choose between them?
I am deeply disoriented.
But--I was going to say I why I felt ashamed. In all these photos, of our beautiful rental house, of our big girl, of the Port, of the market, of our tasty, nourishing food, I see so many blessings. We have so many challenges on our plate. Yet we survive, and we thrive. Shame on me--I have taken the blessings for granted. A friend wrote such a nice Facebook post about my blog the other day, and how my life seemed to her an idyll. Ha! I laughed at that, and it pleased me too. It occurred to me that I ought to read the blog myself to get perspective. So, up go the photos without more ado, and then I'll read about my beautiful life, and see it for myself. Maybe then I can face these new sensations with joy and alacrity. In the end, there's not much in life that can't in some way be enjoyed. I want to do just that, before it passes me by.
on the trail
can you see the mountain?
strawberries on the roadside
a rare stroll
to see the sheep and goats
a splash in the puddles
a sapsucker in one of the yard's madrones
finding sunlight for our starts; spring soup
the Port of Olympia; Jane breaks free
the reorganized studio
dragonboat races at the Port
focaccia and the Sunday crossword starting the rhythm again from the beginning