Why does it feel so twisted to take down the tree every year? I’m happy, yes, to make a little space. But I’m mostly concerned that I’ve got an empty space that I’ve got to heat somehow, that its too nordically sparse. that somehow a cold bear will find its way to hibernate in that corner, while snow falls on him.
and there will be a lone figure walking off into the shadows between the trees, and it will be me.
Today is bright and sunny though, and I’ve been looking at seed catalogues a lot, but it all feels fraudulent somehow. This tease on these cold days is just a delusion of mine own, that spring will ever arrive. my intellect knows that it does, that it gets colder first, and wet, and then life bursts forth. but my animal brain, the primitive goo riding side-saddle next to my internal glowing orb? that goo is convinced that a bear is coming.
I’m coming in from the cold to let you know that i’ve had my most profitable month ever here at lovelove, and i want to be open and transparent with you about how i am doing, financially.
I made $1.39 from the ads that you see alongside the writing, this month alone. Those ads that i have no control over, except to allow them. This brings me to $13.27 since 7/2018. Never let it be said that writing is not lucrative, friends. I am living proof. I only have to reach $100 before they’ll write me a check, so there.
Just wanted you to know. Suze Orman, eat my grits.
I’m doing okay. I have dreams going on, and meditations, and sadness, and sacredness. I’m clearly on the cusp of some things and trying to jar myself into action, smooth bumps and load vehicles and the like.
I’m working more days of the week, outside and I love the feeling of my heart pumping as I carry feed and water for the hens. And baskets and baskets of eggs. I’ve also started at a flower farm nearby, and between the two, I am awash in beauty regularly.
Its all experimental, after all, this life. Its all experimental. I mean, experiential. exponential?
i’m crying a fair amount, but now my eyes hurt and i’m trying not to.
i’m meditating most days. a guided meditation, so i have even less opportunity to think. thinking is the enemy.
i’m working part time in a flower greenhouse, to learn, because i’m dreaming of having my own greenhouse lately and goddamnit, those things are not cheap and are a whole big deal. they arrive unassembled, goddamnit, and empty. (laughing.)
i’m gathering all my dreams into a big pile to see what I can make of them, try to make my life something more independent, more in line with the joy and the contentment I have and want more of. fuck ‘work in the schools’. swear to god, i hear that one more time and i will buy a gun.
i’m sinking into a deep melancholy that I feel in my chest, losing one of my best supports and loves is an unbalancing force, and I am aware, and so I am doing my best to reach out and gather new supports, and use the ones I have. hello sister. nods.
i’m fine. its january. things percolate. i have a working coffee maker, and vitamins. i’ll make it.
*i spent yesterday going through one old journal, making notes, writing down things that i thought were remarkable. Today’s post title got me right in the chest. i think everyone should write about it.
My heart is in the shape of a walnut again. In my older blogs I wrote about my walnut heart many times, in many ways, and all of my worries about it, what it might mean and all the things, all of them.
When I realized this week that I was feeling the pain of it, the hardness in the center of my self, the hurt I am carrying, I realized I had been years without it, and I’m not sure I remarked on that enough. Maybe I didn’t even know my lightness had returned? Is that possible?
My mother-in-love will die very soon, and is definitely in another phase of existence even now. My favorite mentor for decades, I am deep in grief these days and it has been almost unbearable to recognize the walnut as grief.
Was I really grieving the marriage all that time? All those jokes, that mistake of identifying myself as cold, or hard-hearted? Grief? Really? It makes me weep for the woman I have been.
I am deep in the midnight, and the dawn and all the places where there are cracks, I am in there.
Two of my kids are psychotically excited that Christmas is almost here.
The third one just wants his merch.
Today is the first day that all three have gone to school confidently in three weeks. I am feeling about 97% okay, with a heavy chest and some coughing still. I definitely feel low-energy and find that I am in need of a rest more often. I don’t really like this feeling.
HOWEVER. tomorrow the kids go to their Dad’s until Christmas eve, which means I have a four-day period to wear my pajamas, wrap presents, count to be sure everything is even and if I need to? Go buy the thing that I forgot. Being out of it for three weeks means there is a lot that is undone. The space and time though? It feels miraculous. And while I am not suggesting divorce as a tool to be the mom at Christmas, it is pretty damn handy.
So, you know, consider it.
It is the almost the only time in the year that I get uninterrupted time, almost. (there are rumors of a ski trip in february) I predict they will get off the bus here one of the days, because their dad usually forgets at least one of the wide-variety of pickup times. (normal, not deadbeat) but i don’t even need to be here at that time, just need to be cautious about what is left out when i go. I can handle that. its second nature, this caution, at christmas, yes?
I will be in heaven. A slow, leisurely preparation time. I’m thinking popcorn and hot chocolate for dinner, maybe breakfast, and I might begin watching Downton Abbey, which I haven’t seen. Maybe I’ll paint my nails. It is almost here.
my tea is almost cool enough to taste.
i am almost patient enough not to burn my tongue.
but honestly, my most pressing question for tomorrow, the first day of my break: How long can a person stay in the bath before the water cools to uncomfortably cold? I plan to test it. I will let you know.