I don't literally live on a farm. There are no cows or goats to milk, no chickens to feed or hay to bale or any other of my limited examples of farm knowledge. No one will die or go hungry if I stay in bed until the full light of the sun has dried off the morning fog. But some thing does die a little. -- The Wild One.
I know I've talked about Women Who Run with the Wolves on this blog before. It's been awhile because I haven't picked up the book in over a year. I recently loaned that book to a friend and in return I was fed a few highlights she sparked on as she began the book. It's been a joy to hear someone else talking about wild women, and self nurture and care. I've been doing my best to take care too.
I've been gone from this blog for so long that there are multitudes of stories trying to jump out of my throat right now, but there's also the me who has been up since four and who wants to crawl back into bed for a few minutes now...
My mom told me something about herself the other day. We were talking about my beginnings as a modern latchkey kid - when I was in full-time day care at 12 weeks old. She was talking about the how and why of the success or our situation. Then she said, as an addition or final explanation, "I like things to be easy."
Some kind of eclipse in my perception is ending and light is being thrown upon shadow.
I am very typical of my generation. (As conventional as a four year degree and "essential" handheld electronic devices.) One of the often publicized "problems" with me and my "millennial" friends is that we expect instant results out of some over developed sense of entitlement. It seems that our parents' proximity of birth to WWII and a great city will influence our degree of spoiling, and so will the amount of money in their family.
My mom was born just after the baby boomers, to a Jewish family who became middle class on the uppermost part of Chicago's North side. She married in 1981 at age 22 and had me about six months later. My father missed being a part of the "great generation's" offspring, but his eldest siblings were in on it. He was also born in a Navy family and it seems their causal realities are varied from the daily "conventionally known" realities of non-military families. My dad's family was larger and had one working parent (the absent one) so they were lower down on the economic ladder.
He might have been taught about the gains come from hard work except his mom had a fatal heart attack when he was 13 and his father was never around for long, at best.
Lots of girls play at princess stories when they're small. It's an extremely common theme in American girls' psyches. The princess may be poor, but golden hearted or drop dead gorgeous or extremely talented at singing. Or she may be wealthy, a real princess at the outset, but beset by either villain, tragedy, or higher asperations than royal marriage and begetting. In either case, in the majority of these popular tales, the princess' fortune ends fatter and through some kind of instant, game changing good luck.
We don't ever learn what happens to Princess Ariel of The Little Mermaid. What if Prince Eric didn't want to, or wasn't able to, stop his seafaring in order to stay home having adventures and copious sex with his 16 year old wife? What if she found herself on land, with her legs and her snorfblats, with a whole new world (sorry, wrong princess) to explore, all on her own?
Ok, so I'm not an ex-mermaid and I didn't get into a multi-species war with an octopus queen and my father didn't grant my biggest wish with his magic trident, but I am finding out what happens after the "and they lived happily ever after" curtain falls. It was really embarrassing to me, to have to admit that I'd played right into that fairy tale and had No. Idea. what came after "happily ever after." I hate it when I turn out to be a cliche. (My trick for that is to just do or same something original or clever and then moving along.)
I have learned so much about myself in doing this work of mining into the cave of myself in order to be more authentic, more present, more consistently honest with myself and my lover. I don't take myself to be a dishonest person. I do my best to always show up and be real and present with my beloveds. It is only now that I realized that I omit things in a split second. Things that are not a big deal, but that some part of me sensors for the perceived sake of others or of some kind of peace.
Hadj make a funny the other day when a woman told me she hadn't ever really know any Aquarians. He said, "And you never will!" and then guffawed at his own joke in that way he has. It was clever and so true, but I wouldn't have ever known it until this relationship. I do require a lot of space and my man requires much less. We meet in the middle as often as possible and call to each other when one has gone into hiding.
Now that my sense of humor is back and I've again traded in my depressive blues for more manic flower power patterns, I can see that I make the committment more and more everyday to be as much of what my man needs as I can and also to be all of myself that I need. That's really all required and I'm pleased by the simplicity. The universe has put my right where I need to be if I want to work out the knot of not yet knowing how to energetically move and patiently be.
Hadj and I were talking the other day and I was saying how it can be disorienting to pine for the city while feeling grateful for the country at exactly the same time. I gave a few examples of what about the city I was missing and he said, "instant gratification." That's what the city has. You can get anything you want any time of the day or night when you live in a metropolis. "Here," he said, "if you want something you have to do research first."
Sometimes it's very reassuring to have a name for the struggle you're feeling. It's like having a flashlight in the woods at night.
Speaking of work, and patience...my patience with this post is waning at the present and I'm not further patient to save it and make it into the picture of what I originally had when I began writing it. I had grand ideas, of course, or...at least coherent ones, and now what I have is written. And what's really great is that this post, this very one, is really a mash-up of something I began writing two months ago and have finally come back to tend to now. That's part of the reason why blogs are so great. Whatever I need to say, I can say it quickly and move.