It’s fantastic to be in the same place for more than....oh, 4 hours. 6 whole weeks of parkedness. I'm already feeling a little twitchy!
Nah- not really. Actually, part of me wishes this were my place. I'm envious and inspired and also pretty sad at times. That sounds weird until I tell you that I used to live on a mountain not far from here. I can see it across the river valley in fact. I did not leave it on good terms, hence the sad. But let’s not skip the middle parts....
This here homestead I'm sitting on is exactly the dream I had with my (ex)husband at one time. Yes, someone actually married me and got me to stay in one place and have sex with only them for 10 years or so. It’s hard to believe from where you’re sitting, but I was not always this freewheeling, party animal, nomadic, confirmed bachelor you see sitting before you today....
I lived on 10 acres in the forest, without phone, electicity, indoor plumbing and visible neighbors. Until then, I’d never lived anywhere longer than 2 years (I mean, in the same house; I'd live in the same city for decades at a time) and I’d never owned my own place. I’d never been married like that and I'd sure as hell never had a joint checking account.
It was another lifetime. Leave it to Beaver-meets-Grizzly Adams.
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| Looking Over at My Old Stomping Grounds |
Then I got sick with Lyme and slowly but surely, everything fell apart. It was the most difficult time of my life as an adult. I had long known that by the time I was 40, a lot of things in my life would be in “order”. And I was right. I just didn't realize they would only be in “order” for a few years.
After health went, career went, performing career went, spouse wanted to not be married anymore, bankruptcy was filed, I finally had to leave my land and I had to find a new home for my dogs- no one, but NO ONE would rent to me with dogs (in many ways that was the most painful part). I was in hell of grief and betrayal combined with intense physical pain and profound exhaustion.
The community I'm now visiting in as a house sitter was not there for me. I know I didn't make it easy, but still- some of those people specialized in dealing with people on the edge, difficult, messed up, people in pain. I was one of the people that helped others in bad situations until I hit one of my own. Then suddenly no one was around. I was extremely hurt by that.
Meanwhile, I was going through some profound feelings of betrayal in general. I didn't realize it until later, but I was having a spiritual crisis. I'd gotten used to things working a certain way in my life, in my relationship with god and the circumstances I found myself in weren’t part of the deal. I was stunned. Angry. Bereft of everything, even my cool, laid back, buddy relationship with god.
I did a lot of crazy, destructive stuff in that space, including two attempted suicides and some compulsive gambling. It was not pretty.
There came a time, long after I finally left my little spot on the mountain across the way, that I realized I'd been settling and I didn't even know it. I was eventually grateful that I'd been “forced" off that mountain by circumstances seemingly beyond my control. There were things waiting for me that I could not have even imagined.
Here’s the thing- I almost always find that if I get everything on my list, just as I've laid it out, I would be selling myself short. The universe actually has much better things in store for me most of the time. But if I won't let go of my own plan, then it sometimes does me the favor of yanking the rug out from under those plans so that I'm open for the better road.
If only I could always be aware of that at the time I'm flying through the air to land painfully on my ass.
So here I am. I'm sad. And happy. I figure it’s a great opportunity to make peace with my history here. And in the meantime, I get to enjoy this brief time out on a gorgeous mountain top.
I was running laps around the driveway today (it’s a very looooooong, country driveway), looking out over the mountains. The pad this place is on is just about level with the surrounding mountain tops. I was imagining that I was running, bounding, leaping across them.
Then suddenly I was crying (and still running- the timer was on dude...). I asked god, why can't I have this??? and god said, not for you this time. I let that sink in (still crying, wiping the snot off my face with my sweatshirt sleeve, dodging puddles and rocks- running in the mountians, even on a driveway, is a whole other animal than flat land running). I was feeling the loss of that time around 40 when it seemed I had all the big questions answered, it felt like I’d arrived and life was good. Good enough anyway.
Then god said, not exactly like this anyway. You don't get to hide out up on mountaintops this lifetime. Sometimes, yeah- but I need you to be in the world.
I said- FUCK! *heavy sigh* The world is so awful right now. And people are HARD.
Yeah, god said. I know (if god had eyeballs, they would have been looking pointedly in my direction, cocked eyebrows and all).
I just smiled, sniffled and kept on runnin over mountaintops, going god knows where, but knowing, sad mad glad ‘n’ all, I'm heading in the right direction.
PS: fyi, my dogs ended up in an amazing place in the country, with a wonderful woman on some acres. That's right- they even got to stay together. I’ve had the chance to visit them, even house sit for her once and spend the whole weekend. It was really was the best outcome, other than having them with me forever of course. But that’s okay. I get to do a lot of cool traveling and non-dog-friendly stuff. I miss them all the time. This is how it is when we love people. Even dog people. In every hello is a goodbye and vice versa. I sometimes think I'm gonna escape it, but the only way to do that is never say hello. But then your life is just one giant empty goodbye with no hellos to make it worthwhile.
I'm stopping now or the postscript is gonna need it’s own blog post.
