Rememberence in Autumn

One year ago, I consciously stopped eating sugar. A baker coworker scoffed at the idea of quitting sugar around Halloween. To him it seemed sacrilege, but I knew there was no better time than the most sugar filled day of the year to reject sugar. I gave myself some leeway and occasionally enjoy my own baking or the baking of a trusted bakery. More than enjoying the occasional treat, I've enjoyed how my body has responded in all the ways the blogs and articles stated. I have found my clothes fit much better and my taste buds are more attuned to nuanced flavors.

Here is the World.

Four years ago, I briefly knew I was pregnant. Not long enough to be attached but long enough to know reproduction was something I was capable of. Enough to hope. The band of female friends that surrounded me with wisdom, love and advice still sticks with me today. I do get a little sad around this time when I calculate how old that mass of cells would have been.

Beautiful and terrible things will happen.

Eight years ago, I moved to Nashville for a month to photo editing for friends. I needed some space to figure out what I wanted to do next in life after China. Seven of us decided to dress up like Team Zissou from Life Aquatic and because my hair was so long, I volunteered to be the topless team member. I didn't think too much about the implications of being at the East Nashville Pub Crawl "topless" and I knew I would be moving back to Georgia soon, so I wasn't too worried about the social implications. The night was great a great experiment in being bold in public: I knew I wasn't actually topless (nude bodysuit and fake boobs) but onlookers at first thought I was and the scowls I got from women were quite shocking. I would not suggest doing this in public on a regular basis. For years, I was introduced as the Topless Girl and there was always a flash of remembrance in the face of people and then a smile. I guess it was good I didn't know at the time Nashville would be my new home.

Don't be afraid.

I look back and see a pattern this time of year. Seasons are changing, leaves are falling, temperatures are getting crisper, nature starts to hibernate. I seem to start new chapters of life or thought. It is terrifying but good.

I edge closer to what I am trying to find. Unsure of the path but following my heart.

The Single Life with Chickens- A Lesson Learned (Again)

It's the sound no chicken owner wants to hear at 4:30 AM: noise in the coop.

After getting home slightly intoxicated Friday night from Florence + the Machine, and watching the rain fall again (luckily it stopped during her show) I thought the girls would be fine till 6 AM and decided to go to bed. My window was open and I blissfully drifted off to sleep with Cosmic Love lyrics on replay in my mind.

I awoke suddenly, panicked, and with dread when I heard the noise. I had a flashback to two years ago when a raccoon got into the coop and did a lot of damage. Quickly I threw on something, grabbed a flashlight and rushed outside expecting to see chicken caucuses strewn about. Dim flashlight clicked on.....

Caper: silent, 20 feet from the coop, alive (I think, I don't have my glasses on)
Kiwi: causing all kinds of ruckus, 5 feet from the coop, alive.
Cinnamon: quiet, 5 feet from the coop, alive.
Bergamot + Clove: quiet, still perched in the coop, alive.

Everyone is alive (I think) and I begin to wonder what caused Kiwi to be in such a panic. I start to wonder about zombies or mass murders lurking about East Nashville at 4:30 in the morning and all I have is a stick in hand. Jay isn't home and soon will no longer live here. It's just me. I have to figure this out. I am grateful there are no chicken bodies to dispose of.

I pick up Kiwi, still squawking, and put her in the coop. She's not happy. I'm about to put Cinnamon in when I see it: OPOSSUM in the nesting box where Caper and Cinnamon sleep and black, Caper feathers everywhere!!!! The opossum teenager I've seen around the shed. The opossum that can't be longer than 8 inches. The opossum staring right at me, terrified.

I consider my options:

1. Bring all the hens into the house till dawn- terrible idea.
2. Sleep outside till dawn to make sure the opossum doesn't eat anyone- another terrible idea.
3. Get the opossum out- the only solution.

I shine my flashlight and poke a stick towards it to get it to come out of the coop. It's clearly terrified and NOT coming towards a light and a stick.

Our conversation goes something like this:

Me: I'm scared that a mass murderer will kill me out here, come out so I can go in before my untimely death.
OP: I'm scared too. I just wanted to see if the door was opened to get an egg. I promise I didn't know there was a chicken in the box.
Me: It's cool, I understand. Even if I had a gun, I wouldn't shoot you, mostly because you are kind of cute and I don't want to clean your blood from the coop. I don't do well with blood so I'd probably pass out and there's no one else living here but me. Why don't you come out and everyone will be happier?
OP: Stop shining that damn light towards me and I will.
Me: Deal.

The opossum hops out of the coop and I promise it I'll leave some scraps out for it in the future.

I search for the girls again. I put Kiwi and Cinnamon in and finally find Caper by the fence and plop her back in the coop. A quick scan reveals no clear wounds and she seems fine.

At 5 AM I find my way back to bed, just in time to feed the cat herd.

The Secret to a Good Marriage- Oh the Irony

I thought when I started this blogging project again I would write more and have a daily journal of my thoughts. I was going to follow what I did in college and China and write for writing's sake and for the sake of daily observation and thought. I wasn't prepared to be happy these months and not have the desire to write (or the words to say) and I also found myself thinking less about important matters. I've been thinking only about the immediate. Today, this afternoon, tonight, tomorrow. Facts, lists, duties, jobs, research, etc. This has trickled into my reading habits and I find I only want to read non-fiction (I'm sure this too will pass) and the idea of reading fiction, stories, fluffy has no interest for me.

I want reality:

I have to figure out how to now live with four (four?!!!) cats- true cat lady. Luckily I found a ridiculously priced litter box that I hope will make life easier.

I have to be mentally prepared to lose the house if I don't qualify for a loan to buy Jay out.- Now just a waiting game with the mortgage broker.

I have to be figure out how I'm going to keep this 1450 sq ft house clean if I do keep it (now I know why people hire other to do so).

Reality bites but I enjoy the security of it. The realness of it.

I had an epiphany today of what makes a marriage last. Yes, hindsight is 20/20. Yes, what others have always said stands true. The secret of a lasting marriage: choices. Everyday waking up and making choices that will keep two people together. Everyday making choices that will strengthen the bond between two people. Everyday making choices that will illuminate the next steps with clarity.

The hard thing with choices is that sometimes the past narrows the scope of the choice. Sometimes two people start off on different chapters of the same book and never catch up. Sometimes mindsets and bad habits lead to poor choices. The pastor of the church where Jay and I met said there were plenty of times he woke up and didn't love his wife and he had to make a daily choice to love her. What happens when choosing love is no longer an option? Some would disagree but I would say when two people are no longer making choices that bring them closer together, then love at some point is no longer a choice. It's taken off the table. It's not able to be bubbled in.

What does this mean? It means the choices I make now will dictate my future and I need to make wise choices grounded in reality instead of choices grounded in potential. It means feet on the ground and head not in the clouds.

And briefly, occasionally I think about what would have happened if better choices were made. But alas, that is not what happened and so I table that thought, make coffee and get the house clean.

Pathways

On the eve of embarking on a new job I find myself thinking about the path that has gotten me to where I am now. Although I am a planner, I never planned what my careers would be or what I would "do." Honestly, I never thought I would live to be a real adult (whatever that means) and I never saw myself getting older.... I'm sure I'll be saying the same thing at 70.

I knew at a young age I enjoyed being around people and in college I gravitated towards the social sciences. After graduating, I realized I really needed to find a job. Job searching wasn't something I was too worried about. By the time I graduated I have seen many doors open in my life right when I needed them to. I knew I wanted to end up in China for at least a year and that was always at the back of my mind. In the mean time, an art teacher position opened up at a small school close to Atlanta.

No formal art or teacher training? No problem. My heart knew I could do it and I did. And did it well and I saw that teaching was something I could do for a while. It was everything I was good at. Planning lessons, researching topics, interacting with people, a little acting, a little mystery, anything to keep the kids intrigued and wanting to learn more. At the right time again, China opened up and I walked through the door for a year. It was amazing and I cherish my time there greatly.

I came back from China with the desire to settle down a bit. To maybe get married, maybe have a family? So I did. It was easy and I didn't think too much about it. Other teaching jobs opened up here in Nashville and I took them. I thought about the future but stopped dreaming. I wished for things but reality was not matching up.

This year of 2015 has turned out to be one that took me back to Square One. Back to searching for what I really wanted to do. Public education wrecked me desire to teach for a long time (still can't stomach the idea of going back) and what does one do who has many years of experience and a degree in a field they can't think about playing on again?

I do not have the desire to teach abroad right now. I do have the desire to be here. Maybe not forever, but for a while longer. There are still things that need to happen here. That I know.

I knew my current job had to go. The pay was pitiful and the work that used to be enjoyable was now stifling. I wasn't being use to my full capacity and my lead had misogynist tendencies so I searched for something new. I poked around to see what was out there. I ran across a posting and lightheartedly applied: Happiness Office Manager. Hell yes, I could do that. The door opened again and I walked gracefully through. It is everything I'm good at: planning outings, planning meals, making sure everyone has what is needed, organizing, logistics. It's for a company that is new and wants to succeed. It's a place I can help build a foundation with and maybe get some marketing experience in as well.

On this eve I am excited about the possibilities and where the opportunities will take me. I feel like I am out of the rut, the veil is lifted, the light is starting to shine again. I have started to think more and to dream a little.

And in my mind's eye I always glance West.
And I see the ocean below, the falling twilight sky meeting the pregnant descending sun.
The wind picks up and the taste of salt becomes acute as we race towards the light.
The world is ours.
The future is bright.
The future is indestructible.
We are hopeful for the future.
Don't try to hold us for we shift like the sand we left at the safety of the shore.
Today we breathe.
Today we live.
And tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.
And tomorrow will take care of itself.

I am happy again. And hopeful.

Time to Pay Attention- Hello Meyers-Briggs

In my quest to figure out how I could have made an important decision so lightly, I have started reading more into the Meyers-Briggs test.

Yes, you know the one. You took it in 8th grade. It was fun and you were surprised by how well it articulated who you were. But you were in 8th grade and nothing seems absolute and many of the words you did not understand. You probably took it again in high school with a little more sincerity but you also wanted to rebel against anything that could pin you down so you again thought it was fun, but didn't look too much into it.

College, the same thing but the Eastern and Western Zodiacs also intrigued you and you lumped the Meyers-Briggs into that same esoteric personality/stars lump. No big deal. Keep it all within arms length. You are your own person!

Then your world gets turned up-side-down. You make an unwise decision and suddenly you are trying to figure out who you are and how the hell you allowed yourself to make a poor decision?

Enter Meyers-Briggs again. This time you pay attention. You read the books about the personality types and about the temperaments. You start trying to figure everyone around you out, including your ESFP long tailed cat.

Suddenly everything comes together and you regret not paying closer attention when you were younger, but you didn't know and deep down you realize you've always had to learn things the hard way.

Mind blown. I am a classic ENFJ- The Teacher, although I think as I've gotten older the line between F and T is a bit blurry and that category is one of my weakest. As an NF (iNtuitive-Feeler also called an "Idealist") I've come to realize that only 25% (ish) of the population is intuitive. This in itself makes sense. This feeling I've had that I didn't fit in and that I thought about things most people didn't think about is statically true. Only 1 in 4 process information intuitively (as oppose to using the five senses) I have always trusted my intuition and rarely has it let me down. Now that things are over with a Sensor (S) type, I've realized that I have to be with someone in the future who is also processes things Intuitively. This is deeply rewarding and will make for a happy future. Unfortunately the numbers aren't in my favor, but one can hold out hope, right?

I ran across this interesting tidbit of info from the book, Please Understand Me II: Temperament, Character, Intelligence by David Kerisey: "What Idealist wish for in their spouse is a Soulmate, a spouse who knows their feeling without being told of them and who spontaneously expresses words of endearment. They want the marital relationship to be, as they put it, "deep and meaningful," Other types will settle for much less than this. Guardians (ST) would be Helpmates and Artisans (SP) prefer Playmates and wonder what the Idealist means by "deep and meaningful." And Rationales (NT), wishing to share their consciousness with their mates are more for being Mindmates than Soulmates. Here, suffice it to say that Idealist are asking their spouses to something most of them do not understand and do not know how to give."

What?  People always made fun of me because I gravitated towards the desire for a soulmate now I realize that is just how I am. It's comforting and scary. This could be a lonely life ahead but I do have confidence. A little over 25% of the population would be well suited, so let's begin. Not now of course, but at some point. I am in no hurry.

In the mean time, I'll keep reading and analyzing. Truly what is more exciting to learn about?

Top 10 List- Farewell David Letterman

Hard to believe there will be no more late nights with David Letterman. In the spirit of him and because we are so slow at work, I present two (2?!!) top 10 list:

Top 10 albums I could listen to over & over again while laying on the floor:

Plans by Death Cab for Cutie

Give Up by The Postal Service

Ghost by Radical Face

Enema of the State by Blink 182

A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar by Dashboard Confessinal

The Con by Tegan & Sara

Live Across a Wire by Counting Crows

Speak for Yourself by Imogene Heap

Bleed American by Jimmy Eat World

() by Sigur Ros

Top 10 film I can't get out of my head:

The Cove- dolphin killing in Japan

We Need to Talk about Kevin

Fork over Knives

Interstellar

Waking Life- words can't express. Watch it. 

Looper- Rian Johnson's first blockbuster film. Fantastic. His earlier films are good too. 

The Matrix

April Showers- about the Columbine shootings. Directed by a surviver. 

Romeo + Juliet- the 90s version. Every teens' heart collectively swooned at this one. 

Stand by Me- for nostalgic reasons. When I watched it in college I was shocked my parents actually let me watch it as a kid. When I asked my mom about all the cussing she said, "I knew you wouldn't remember the cussing." Sure enough, I didnt. And there's River Phoenix. He's the reason I love nature names and I hope to name a kid Basil or Cedar on day. 

There you are. 

Rest in Peace Bergamot

I lost a good hen yesterday. Bergamot was a sweet tempered Muran that laid beautiful darker brown eggs. She was three this spring.

I like the idea of an "urban farmer" but I realized there is one crucial element of having any sort of animals that I do not possess. I am not able to kill. The sad reality is that I knew she was not doing well for several months and she should have been culled to put her out of her misery. But I could not do it.

I was raised around hunters and have many memories of my dad and his cousin dressing deer in the shed after a successful morning. One very fond memory of deer brains plopping out of the top of a deer skull and a barn cat eating the warm organ. The texture reminded me of what the bottom of pizza looks like when you take off the toppings and lick off the sauce. Yummy.

I would ask my dad if he "caught a deer" and he would reply he did not catch it but killed it. It never stuck and often I would ask if he caught one after being out. Maybe I didn't want to make the connection between my dad being out, a dead deer and the delicious meat that was in our freezer.

It was the same way with fishing. My sister and I would reluctantly go with my dad but there was no way I was a) touching the worm or b) touching the fish that ate the worm! I thought I was pretty good a fishing since my worm always go eaten but I never wanted anything to do with the fish on the end.

All my life I either saw animals alive or dead but not in the in between stage. That thin line between this world and the next. From movies that thin line was filled with suffering before it ended. It was violent, painful, scary. In real life that thin line is also filled with those things and we all hope for the opposite. We hope for peace and a quiet ending. I do not want to be a part of that thin line since the stakes are high that peace is not the way it will happen.

I am grateful Bergamot went quietly. I sensed something was happening yesterday afternoon while we were washing strawberries. She was poking around the shed by the dirt. She laid down like she always did but something was off. When I peaked out a few minutes later her head rested on her breast in such a way that I knew she had crossed over. So quick. In an instant. Life. Death. She was a good chicken.

Thanks for the eggs and the enjoyment of watching you poke around the backyard. I am glad you got to see some snow this winter.

Contentment

I stumble across articles with titles like, "The Year I was Single" and "The Year I Stopped Dating" and I think to myself that I've spend more years alone than with someone. More years doing what I want instead of doing what we collectively decide to do.

Being single in my 30s much easier and stressless than being single in my 20s. Part of that is a confidence that I can do many things without someone and still be happy. My confidence wavered in my 20s and the thought of being alone forever was too daunting, so I remedied it. I thought marriage would make me less alone. Instead I found that all the things I enjoyed my husband did not and vice versa. Alone in a house you create together is harder than being alone in a house you construct with your hands.

There is also the idea that I don't really care. I don't care to stress out about who will be there, who I'll meet, what will happen. All I have is now so I'll do what I want and if I find someone doing some of those same things then maybe we can do things together. But if not, I am still doing what is best for me. It's simple and I wish I would have know this 10 years ago. Thankfully lessons can still be learned.

For now I am content. For now I am happy. For now I am alone but not lonely and that is all the difference.

It is liberating to think about writing something like this on a Saturday night, just me, some Son Lux, a book and a quiet house. My goal is to always be in a state like this. Not wanting what I don't have but enjoying what I do.

What if I don't know what I want?

And he asked what I wanted. A simple question that I can typically answer, but at the moment I could not. Theoretically I want security and someone who wants to do life together. Someone who I adore, respect, someone who is funny and knows who he is. I want someone who is my other half, the opposite side of the coin. Some would say a fairytale.... maybe?

I've learned that "opposites attract" is bogus. Too many compromises. Too much conflict.

Practically I found what I wanted in very few people. Most I know in four seconds if it will work. It will not.  Of most of the others, a spark never ignites. None have ever happened to live in the same city or state (or country, more like it) and after doing long distance once, is not something I can bear to do again. I typically want to keep exploring and keep searching but this time around, I feel settled. I don't have the acute voice whispering it's time to leave again. At first? Yes, out of sheer desperation but now that things have settled, moving is less appealing. My roots want to grow.

My mom always said I seemed unsettled, always searching, but she never knew for what. Maybe I'll always be searching. Maybe it's a part of being a young soul. Maybe it will always be like this.

Maybe what I really need to to embrace it and stop fighting. Search but learn to be still.

Dream States and Waking States

It feels like a dream where I wake a little confused and sweaty except I own a house and have photos that attest to the fact that it was not a dream.

Like discovering my stuffed bunny in the garage after a night of sleep walking when I was little.

Let me hit the snooze button for five minutes. That's all I need for clarity.

Land Sharks

The last time I felt absolutely, physically exhausted was in 2004. Four of us went to Charleston to surf at Folly Beach. We were about to graduate from college and we wanted to get away one last time before post college plans split us up. Luckily the two guys knew how to surf and in no time the four of us were up and riding the tiny waves on long boards as big a boats.

It was exhilarating. 

It always takes me a long time to warm up to the beach and the water. Too much Shark Week and too big of an imagination often keeps me no farther than hip high in any water I can't see through. (Even in crystal clear water my concern then turns to what is UNDER me that will want to devour me. I can't seem to win...) but after the rush of getting up on the board, falling off and nothing happening, I quickly paddled out again and again to catch another wave. I understood the appeal.

After the real last "one more" we sloshed out of the water, happy, exhausted and hungry. Every ounce over extended, over used and ready to stop and the sad realization hit me: WE had to pack up all our stuff. My dad wasn't there to do it for us. Boards, igloos and towels that we so easily carried in the morning, now had to go back. Weighing more than I thought possible, we drug everything back, making multiple trips over shifting sand. 

I had my first fish taco that night and we hung out as late as possible to postpone going back to the crappy, cheap hotel that boasted "We leave the light on." No, please don't. No one really wants to see what's there. We slept a dreamless, full sleep and woke again to surf the next day before driving back.

Since then I've not been that exhausted. Even Day Two, the longest hiking day in Peru, that lead us up to a snowy 13000 feet and down into high jungle for twelve hours did not feel that exhausting. Knees hurt and mentally tired, yes, but drop dead exhausted? Nope. 

Day 2 of Salkantay Trail

Almost top of Salkantay Mountain. The next six hours were all down hill.... ugh.

I'm in the market for something that makes me exhausted again. Preferably on land. :)

The Year of the Flood

The first day of the last month of spring. Being a gardener I always pay attention to frost days, daily highs and lows of the temp, expected rain, etc. Knowing the seasons and what to expect create a grounding to the earth, a grounding to generations before me, a grounding for myself.

When life gets swiftly uprooted, any sort of grounding is sought.

I am not one with deep roots to any physical location. Shallow roots have been passed on from those before me. My family comes from many areas and we are now scattered throughout the U.S. We are like the grass that way. Shallow roots are comfortable in the "that's all I've ever known" sense even though I long for a deep tap root somewhere.

Five years ago on this day, the rain began. These rains that at first seemed purifying quickly turned destructive in volume. Rains that would keep schools closed for days, rains that would isolate East Nashville from the rest of Nashville, rains that would flood any low lying areas.

It is on this day that I will began to blog again. Something I've not done since college and I now have the time and the interest and just maybe there will be an audience. This will be my search for grounding as the seasons change. Someone said to not get to Old Testament with the seasons, but seasons are something I understand and something I can expect, so seasons it will be.

This is the season where little seeds are growing roots and creating a foundation for the future. Although nothing appears on the surface of the field, a network of little roots laces underneath, creating a strong place for a plant to break through the soil. This will be my attempt to grow more roots, to find my foundation again, to hide underneath the soil for a while. It might get a little dirty, but it is necessary.

Welcome. It's time for the sleeper to wake. It's time for the seed to spout.