I wrote and deleted TWO posts on Friday. That's unlike me. Normally I just spit them out no matter how they sound. They sounded whiny though so I just backspaced my way right out of them. It was a bleh kind of week for me. I felt cross and frustrated for no particular reason. I had a meeting with my friend Pam later that day though and she always helps me sort through things. We'd had similar weeks and both were feeling out of sorts. The more I thought about it and as we talked it through, I realized there's not always going to be a direct rhyme or reason to these feelings. In many ways, I think we are ALL grieving (man, I read through all my January blog posts and thought HOLY SHIT). We're grieving for the way our vision of our life, our country and our futures have changed and grief comes in waves.
Grief comes in waves.
I'd never heard that phrase until my father passed and a kind woman from his church told me that. It is so true. So, in these hard times, sometimes a wave will just hit and I need to just let that be and let it recede, as all waves do.
On a similar topic, my beloved Jeff Evans posted something this weekend on FB that has also been stuck in my mind.
What gives your life meaning, purpose, and feeling grounded?
I haven't responded on FB because I keep turning it over in my head.
Ok. Here goes.
At first thought I want to say 'my family,' but what does that mean? Just the fact that my family exists? No, of course not, so I guess it is giving and feeling of love from my family. That includes my immediate family whom I am lucky enough to adore, but also my family of choice which is so many incredible friends like Jeff. The giving and getting of love gives me strength. When I tell you I love you, I really do. When my sister died I realized I had to take every chance I have to let people know that I love them. So I do.
Music, and the way it helps me work through questions like this and all my life experiences.
And lastly, the finding of moments of pleasure and joy each day and trying to record or acknowledge them. So I take pictures of my cats and my food and my boys and signs and buildings and roads. I use my 19th century glass to drink from. I listen to David Olney and Ian Hunter and all the other musicians that speak to me. And I write about it here so that it is documented for me. The acknowledgement of those things gives me strength and lets me be grounded.
I think that's it, but I will keep turning this over in my head, Jeff.
Waves and moments.
My first fall leaf on my dirty, but deeply loved laptop.
I didn't want to cook but I DID. Cooked some slightly old greans and tossed them with my kale pesto and sauteed some rockfish in just salt, pepper, cornstarch. Ernie says the beans won. I say it was a tie.