This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine...

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

I Would Veil

There is so much to learn.  Out here I am surrounded by reminders of the learning I have to do.  Learn where and when the morels and portabellas grow.  Learn what plants are indigenous and which are taking over.  Learn which direction North is, for goodness sake.  I am being remade.  I am being stubborn.  I am curious, insatiable, excitable, and extremely weary of changing my schedule for undesired tasks.  I am wobbling like a weeble.  I promise myself not to fall down.

Rewild is a word that rushes through my head.  A cold, clear creek running down the valley of Twanoh State Park.  New words like skookum, snohomish; new species like golden eagles, salamanders, coyote packs howling some distance from my back door at night.  I am aching to immerse myself in the nature of my unfamiliar home.  I am annoyed by habits from my old city grounds, resting above me plainly.

Sunday was a day which I had all to myself, the first of its kind in months.  I am a person needing of wide expanses to dance in, so finding my peace and calm center in the middle of a new, more populated life has been challenge enough.  I'm proud of how well I've done.  I'm proud of partner who values the same things I do and knows how to retreat when either of us needs it.  But, Sunday, was a very good day. 

I'm back to reading some of my old writing friends again, who, for reasons unknown got lost in the upswirl a few months ago.  I read the stories of these writers hungrily from within my cubicle in Chicago less than a year ago.  I remember vividly how I would try to stop the tears that would come after reading a particularly beautiful paragraph about receiving wild herbs from a hillside.

On Sunday I stood in a spot in my yard and faced uphill, to the North East.  I was pleased looking in that direction, because I felt nestled among the big old firs that stand around it.  My temporary studio dome will be built there and I wanted to begin getting a feel for it.  I don't live in a city anymore.  My pace is slowing down.  My pace is beginning to resemble the breath I take when I am calmly sitting and not thinking.

I don't have answers this winter.  I have feelings and questions.  I have, honestly, fears.  I have noticed myself justifying my actions.  I have noticed how many assumptions I make.  I want to wear veils a lot these days.  I don't always want to meet other peoples eyes.  I want quiet, I want strength, I want to flow where I am drawn to.

I'm spending a lot of time writing about what I want right now because what I don't want is to complain more.  I don't want to focus on disagreeing with peoples' views of "The Real World" or what is, or is not, necessary.  Here's something I learned the other day: if you're going to tell people a writer you must be prepared to be asked what you write.

I have a cold right now and it's made me pretty sleepy.  I've wanted mostly to stay curled up reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle - which I'm finding luxurious and intimate.  I don't care about privilege anymore.  Every human can only be so wide and some other humans are more narrow, it's not anyone's fault.  I have choices to make about what I will allow to anger me, and other peoples' behavior is registering less and less.  I seem to get mad about working at jobs that don't suit me more often than not.  Mostly I get mad at myself.  I keep asking for time to work on my healing.  Sometimes I write it all out as a reminder of what I have and what I have to work harder for...sometimes I have to stop working and "let go and let god."  I have been searching for the name(s) for what I believe in. 

That's why I want to wear veils right now.  I want them because they're ancestral.  They're symbolic.  They serve the purpose of shielding my eyes so I can remember more easily that I don't know what the answers are.  I don't know what the names are for things or people, or even myself.  Another important function is that they indicate to others, not me, that I am shielded and must not be approached carelessly.  Where will I find my veils and how will I remember I have strength?  

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