Thursday, July 13, 2006

Fitting life in boxes.

This morning I walked Anu down to a lake covered in white-caps. We stood for a long time with our faces to the wind letting it cool our bodies even just a little. Beyond the lake it is nothing but hot pavement, dust, and slow dying trees. Anu swam and as she did she looked at me with eyes that clearly said: "Oh god this feels good. You should come in too."

Yesterday I spent the day sweating through my file cabinet and a mess of boxes from the last move. My writing room is like an oven on the second floor of this old house. I'm organizing... and in the process I've found that I have a solid 50 or 60 pounds of typed, mostly double spaced written material. Sorted from 1999-2006, it takes up one whole drawer of a file cabinet and that doesn't include any of my journals or blogging. I may not have much to show for it, but I've been more productive than I thought.

As I walked home from the lake along the hot-cracking concrete I was thinking about people who make it a goal to write their first book by the time they're 30. Well, I missed that mile-post, but decided that I'm glad I never had that goal in the first place because now I don't have to feel bad about not having accomplished it. Possibilities still exist.

In the I'll pack the basement--I'm going subterranean where there will, hopefully, be at least a little respite from this heat. 2 weeks, 2 days--and we'll be gone. It seems strange to be leaving the lake that I've grown up with, the one that edges this town--this lake sometimes stinks, but is beautiful.

I keep packing and all the while find myself measuring my life up to this point. It's a strange and satisfying feeling to pack everything up, to neatly contain myself in boxes and organized file cabinets. I know this feeling won't last long, but it gives me just enough extra space to sit down by the lake a little longer--with my face to the wind and my feet in the water.

I edge a little closer to the end of the dock while Anu tentatively swims out further, further, until her feet no longer touch the sand below. She swims on faith alone, looking at me all the while with complete trust as I cheer and sigh for her pleasure. When she joins me on the dock, I look up and see a place that has become my home for much longer than I ever intended. I came back by accident. But from my vantage point I follow the curve--where water meets land--and I am surprised by how much this place has shaped me.


gkgirl said...

this was a great post.


you seem very calm.
very still.

Elizabeth said...

" much this place has shaped me." Amazing isn't it? How moving causes you to reassess your life. People say they hate packing, but I don't.

Beautifully written, post. And there's lots of book-writing in your future!

megg said...

"Possibilities still exist."

That gave me chills. It's a title for something, I can feel it. It's also words to live by... ooooooh.

melba said...

I don't like to pack. I moved about 20 times from the ages 18 to 30 and although I longed for change, the actual packing and hauling boxes sucked.

Now I can't believe we have lived in our house more than 6 years. Time Flies!!! (and we still do not have one picture on the walls in our bedroom!!!)

You wrote a post about finding a job. A technique that has worked for me is to write what you want in the middle of your art journal (a job) and then in a circle all around it write what type of job you want. You already did that in this post so it should be easy. and then you can do some visualization of what you want while holding your journal.
Or instead of your art journal you could put it on a piece of paper and sleep with it under your pillow. Before you go to sleep ask what ever higher power you believe in to show you the steps needed to find this job in your dreams.
I have done both of these things for a variety of reasons and it has been very helpful.

Leah said...

lovely, thoughtful post. i know what you mean about landing some place accidentally and then later finding how much it has shaped you. that has happened to me as well. everything important seems to have come along accidentally, but maybe not. (((hugs)))

p.s. i like melba's suggestion. it has helped me as well.

Tammy said...

I'm getting prepared for my move next spring through your blog. I enjoyed getting caught up, the cute new car and your perspectives. I'm really relating to your journey, but in a different stage of life. You will go far!


Anonymous said...

i really liked this post -- very thoughtful. i am in the middle of moving myself; it's taking a bit longer than usual because i am trying to scale down -- i have accumulated so much stuff somehow...funny how i only realize it when i start to move it! thanks for the comment you left on my blog; now i have discovered you, and i'll be back for sure!

Kristine said...

Time sure does fly. I can't believe that you are already moving. Seems like yesterday when you were just considering it. My thoughts are with you.
Did you get your music yet??

Joy Eliz said...

This is beautiful...such lovely writing!

It makes me think about my life...

Dana said...

This is such a beautiful post, from defining yourself through the belongings you are packing up to the way you have been shaped by where you live. The writing you've done ~ that little thrilling discovery of its amount and weight. The image of the lake and how it represents your life.

Yes, lovely.