Roots

After experiencing a lovely July 4th weekend with friends and my own little family unit, I launched into a suckfest of a week.  The very sad thing about this is that as I write it's only Tuesday, and only halfway through Tuesday. We had a long weekend off from construction vehicles barreling down our street and the FPL "tree experts" hacking away at trees, the branches of which they would then feed into the tree chipper which they'd decided to park directly across from our front door. For a tree lover, few things grate on the nerves as much as the sounds of branches screaming as they're fed through that monster-like contraption.  There has been little peace in my heart over the past week since this began sometime around last Monday, and I think I'm close to my wit's end with the situation.  The noise and stress began afresh this past Monday.  As I drank my morning coffee I heard the trucks pulling up and the knot in my stomach re-knitted itself as I know they've been eyeballing the beautiful tree in our front yard with ill intention.  

Yesterday afternoon I pulled into the driveway after an uneventful trip to the supermarket.  I noticed that our neighbor was outside talking with another man; when he saw me roll into our yard he approached my car and asked if I'd talk with this tree person.  My heart surged briefly with hope that this guy might be able to clear some of our great tree's branches from around the lines without destroying the aesthetics of the tree. They were quickly dashed as he told me be wanted to lop off a huge branch for "the health of the tree". Nevermind that, as I pointed out, said branch is home to some baby birds, the parents of whom I've been watching defend for the past couple of weeks. I've come to be quite fond of those mockingbirds, and also quite protective. My neighbor, who is a vegan, should have been in my corner with this, but he just looked at me sympathetically and said nothing. Why is it that people are so enamoured with so called specialists? I do my own research with everything these days, as it seems that most of these "specialists" are interested more in making a buck than they are in actually doing the right thing. The tree guy, in a fashion typical of anyone who sees dollar bills suddenly flying away like feathers in a windstorm, launched into a dialogue of fear, shame, and sheer bully tactics at my negative response. These tactics rarely work on we stubborn and hard to intimidate New England girls. In true New England fashion, I told him I couldn't deal with anybody else's shit today and basically advised that he go fu*k himself.  I'm sure the neighbor was shocked and I'm mildly sorry about that, but I've been holding onto a shred of serenity lately that is supported by the nature in our yard, and as I feel that slipping away I'm not sure how to cope.  I ranted all the way into the house about how tired of this place I am and how happy I would be to move away. 

After this encounter, I did what every self respecting New England girl would do: I grabbed a mug of coffee and retreated into the sanctuary of our back yard, where I plopped onto the grass with our hen and cried my eyes out. Okay, New England style is generally to be tough, but sometimes a good cry can help us to sort out our deepest issues and then to move toward resolving them. So, there's some logic to that, and we New Englanders pride ourselves on being thinking people, so I think my cry was justified. Not that I need to justify myself to anyone. 

I realized that so much of my life lately revolves around trying to make other people happy and comfortable, as well as around the fear that my actions will make someone else upset with me. I can't talk about my longing for home while in my own house anymore, and I'm reminded too often in my own head not to be selfish, to put the needs of everyone else before my own, because that's what I've been told I should do.  I feel like a non-person some days, and one can only be a non-person for so long before she loses control in an ape shit tirade against a roving tree specialist and her usually hippy crunchy vegan neighbor (I generally love hippy crunchy vegan folk and like my neighbor, just to clarify).

I grew up in a place that loves tradition and values things like antique houses, special landmarks, and Walden Woods.  I hate the artificiality of a place like South Florida, where so much value is placed on the newest, the shiniest, the fastest, the most expensive.  There are tree huggers here, but we're in a constant battle. As are most tree huggers, I suppose. I'm tiring of being severed from my homeland, though. And it's taking a toll. 

A Calm Place

This weekend was a quiet one, with family time spent (just the three of us), and a date night enjoyed, some new plants purchased for the garden, and tiles chosen for the shower. We are going to be doing some work (well, the Hub Dude is going to be doing some work- he is the plumber, after all) in our shower, fixing leaks and replacing some horribly painted floor tiles. Sadly, the people who owned our house before it was ours did a whole lotta work that wasn't done well, or in a quality manner.  We have slowly been fixing all of the things that are falling apart, chipping off, and popping up.  In a way, there is some blessing in this as we now have tile in our living room which better suits our taste, and our kitchen has been customized to meet our personal styles and needs.  

The best thing about this weekend was the sense of peace that pervaded everything. On Friday night I attended a wonderful full moon gathering with Sisters. This filled me with a sense of peace and joy and I made a mental note that this is a group I must be more involved with. The rest of the weekend was equally as nice; I was grateful to have serenity this weekend, after the tumult of the previous one. I do believe that peace is often born of chaos, however. I rarely make positive and necessary changes unless some event or other crops up to urge me forward.  The explosions that rock our lives also give birth to new creation.  

Today, we have homeschool activities that should be fun and educational. It's nice to begin the day late starting "regular" week with an activity rather than just hitting the books. Our year is wrapping up, and summer is threatening a little more each day to arrive, although today the sky is grey and brief showers keep swishing through our area. 

Good Tuesday to all! 

Progress Through Acceptance

It's been a rough week. Emotionally, I have been all over the place, some moments wrapped in the sheer bliss of motherhood, other moments lost in longing for home and sadness for what seems too far out of reach.  Swirled into the soup of my own life happenings have been feelings of deep sorrow over the tornado in Moore, Oklahoma. Today I found myself sobbing during the CNN newscast, overflowing with grief for the children lost and the lives shattered. 

In the midst of my uncertainty and chaos, I've also found a sense of resignation and willingness to stay in the moment and see where life takes me, and us, when I do the right things and cherish the hell out of all the blessings that stretch before me each day.  

It seems that this small step in the direction of living in a more open way has sparked the artist in me again.  I've been working on various pieces of artwork, feeling a gusto for spending fun time with my daughter, energized toward life in general, and realizing that I need to step outside my comfort zone in a few areas of my life.  The work/homeschool/play/spiritual/family balance is still a tricky one to strike, but I've been making lists, prioritizing, and refusing to allow everyday life to squeeze the joy out of parenting. I've been walking around in an anxiety ridden daze over the past few months and it's been getting me nowhere except more deeply into a mire of perceived failure. I can't sit in that briar anymore. Time is too swiftly moving, my daughter is growing too quickly, and my creative urges are screaming for attention. An artist who isn't creating tends to dance on the edge of crazy. I'm not talking about an eccentric, kooky sort of crazy, either. I'm referring to depression and an inability to eek the wonder and magic out of life that is always inherent but not always noticed. 

So, I think I'm traveling through a highly transformative period in life. My intuition has been turned up; my sensitivity is either getting stronger or I'm better learning how to be open to the images and ideas that reveal themselves and to figure out what they mean.  My connection to nature and to the whole web of life has also been powerful as of late.  In most respects this feels wonderful, though it also occasionally leads to sobbing episodes over the sink after the nightly news has told the day's tales and dinner is being readied.  I have known I was an empath for many years; I'm still learning how to deal with it.  

And so, I bid hello to a new awakening. I'm hopeful, but I understand that there is much work to be done, and I don't expect that it will all be neat and easy.