Interdependence.

Rise…

I have to confess; I am totally being a slacker today. It’s kind of overcast and gray outside, sort of hot and humid, threatening to rain but when it does, only fitfully. I’m feeling emotional, which is not always a bad thing, but I haven’t quite moved beyond self soothing and mindless youtube surfing and it’s about four in the afternoon. So I’m going to start typing and see where this goes.

I’ve been thinking about freedom a lot lately. What it means to be free. I find it funny that when I think of those moments I’ve felt most free they were those times when I’ve been most constrained or maybe restrained might be the better word. I wonder why this is. I’m not alone in this experience, however. I know this because otherwise the word cleave would have only one meaning, not two contradictory ones. Cleave means to split, to penetrate or pierce something – it also means to cling closely to something or someone.

The things that make me go hummmm.

This year opened with a core need, an almost imperative drive to… I don’t know, rid myself of my addictions, of the things that were keeping me from being healthy and well adjusted (if only in my own mind). And I think what has become most apparent to me through this process is that there is no, and never has been, one single right way to live, forever and ever amen. I keeping coming back to this place where I find that I might not have been wrong, but I also wasn’t right. And they weren’t right but they weren’t quite wrong either. There’s this ambiguity that resides in every moment of existence. Sorry I guess I’m really only rambling today.

Where was I going with this… there’s this interdependence between the outer and the inner, something about their relation to one another that creates meaning of and for the other. Different entirely from Independence or Codependence which is at base the abjuration or assumption of dependence, an either/or equation rather than a neither/nor sum.

On a entirely different but sort of related theme – I thought I’d include a current garden shot and a before and after of my daily juicing adventures. Till next time.

Hydrate.

Drinking fresh carrot/apple/ginger/golden beet/and assorted baby pepper juice. My mouth is all stingy from the ginger and I get this strange rush after the first 8oz. probably all in my head, this sudden burst of energy. But the effects, after three weeks of juicing, are readily visible in my skin, regardless of what my brain’s doing. My casing is toned and sort of luminous, younger in appearance. Then again it could be the 14 days of no alcohol. Both I imagine.

Two weeks of no moonshine and I blew it by drinking wine at a party on Saturday. Spent Sunday morning puking my guts out as a reminder of why liquor and I are on the outs.

I went to an AA meeting by the way, my first ever. My sister Owl has been struggling with alcoholism and asked me to go with her. Seeing as how I’ve also been struggling with my alcohol use, I figured it wouldn’t hurt any to attend and learn how others have dealt. I found the experience humbling and I have to say I got a lot out of it. There were things said there that continue to cross my mind almost a month later.

I wrote the twelve steps down on a pad of paper so I’d have something to keep my hands busy and my nerves down.

Gosh I could really go for something sweet right about now.

So I went for something sweet and got swept up in reading 50 Shades and now it’s midnight and I’m a pumpkin. More later I guess.

Living In the Garden.

The before, March. The after, June.

In keeping with getting you up to speed… for the past few years I’ve been learning and practicing a number of different hobbies, gardening in particular has been a point of focus. My garden is on its 8th year. With each passing year I learn a little more and manage to kill things off less. The learning curve has been hard on the plants to say the least. However this year I kind of impressed myself. The garden is thriving due mostly, I’m sure, to the fact that I’ve finally taken the time to read a few gardening books and follow the instructions therein to the best of my ability.

Gardening has a lot to do with creating the ideal environment for the particular plant one is attempting to grow, or the insect or animal the gardener is hoping to attract. Both require one to asses what the environment is and know how to change it. The quality of soil was something I had never really considered, for example. All dirt is not created equal: soil PH, composition and basic nutrient levels really do count. I (finally) tested and amended the soil. Watering is also something I had to adjust. I relearn obvious things like, earthworms can drown.

It’s equally important to take into account the things one cannot readily see, to be able to recognize what’s a problem and appropriate response. In keeping with personal values I garden organically, in this case meaning heirloom seeds and without the use of chemicals or pesticides. Because of this I expend a lot of effort to provide the right micro-environments for beneficial predators. Few things give me greater pleasure than to see dragonfly, lady bugs, praying mantis, and assorted others doing what they do best.

The Path Less Chosen.

It was a bitter winter in Minot, but then what winter isn’t up there. Always a few days out of the year where it’s the coldest place on the northern content, or so I was told. You left your car running no matter where you went or for how long, few options though there were. Mine was running in the parking lot of a tiny frozen strip-mall where the only independent music store in town was located.

I was inside the store, rummaging through CDs looking for this months four selections. It was a game I invented, one of many I employed to keep me occupied, interested, and yes, stimulated, in the land of 70 below. The idea was this: I would pick a section of the store at random, and flip through disks until I found a band or musician I didn’t know, one album set aside and look for the next. One album from four I didn’t recognize. One for each week of the month.

The months that I religiously crossed off, one black X at a time, on the calendar I kept to count down the days I had left. Tourette’s-cold days like this one: one agonizing day closer to completing my ‘tour’. I had time to kill.

I wouldn’t be able to wait to listen to all of them of course, and as soon as I got back to base, I’d listen to them one right after the other. Then pick the one I’d listen to for the next week. Some were a bitter disapointment and I’d be totally bummed that I bought something I didn’t like. Some had music that completely blew my mind. Broadening my inner horizon despite being landlocked in this flat frigid wasteland. It didn’t matter if I loved it or hated it: I had to listen to each for a week. There were some weeks I’d start out disliking something only to find by the end they had grown on me.

Lamb, found and heard, in the middle of nowhere, was one of these for me. I find it humorous to this day that the album is called ‘Fear of Fours’. How could I resist? I had to have it. I hardly even noticed my nose hair freezing, or the inadvertent “Shit-Fuck it’s cold” that slipped out of my mouth when I could catch my breath after stepping outside. I slipped, without slipping, into to car. In the blessedly somewhat warmer air I unwrapped the jewel-case with stiff fingers and slid the silver-rainbowed thing into the player.

What I heard was this: B-Line.

I didn’t know what to think. Much to my consternation I couldn’t quite figure out if I liked it or not. I kinda thought I didn’t at first, was sorta put out that I spent money on an unknown instead to giving in and buying one from who ever it is I thought I wanted at the time. However, by the seventh day the heavens and earth were made. And over a decade later Lamb is still a keystone in my inner-scape and a fun reminder of the ways in which the Universe gives me what I need, reward I suppose for delayed gratification of those things I think I want:

 B-Line.

What’s Rational?

Many, many moons ago when this site was nothing more than a glimmer of an idea started in a collage course about blogging being the fifth estate, I was given a research assignment that led to the discovery of Elizabeth Pisani and her blog called The Wisdom of Whores.  Today while reviewing Project links, I watched a TED talk given by Pisani called “Sex, drugs and HIV — let’s get rational” 

HIV is about sex and drugs, and if there are two things that make human beings a little bit irrational: they are erections and addiction. – Elizabeth Pisani.

I’ve been thinking a lot about rationality, being reasoned, and it’s funny that erections and addiction have been much featured in my life as of late. Her call to reason could not have been more timely. Thank you Elizabeth.

Floored.

As has been readily apparent I’ve been absent from the project for some time. Not for anything disastrous or dastardly, thank goodness, though certainly a most dynamic time is being had. All very Self centered.

While You Wait For the Others. 

So my aim here is two-fold: On one hand I’ll do my best to catch you up and on the other I really, really, need post something just to break the awkward silence and lack of creative internet presence for what seems like ever.

I had just started tearing up the flooring last I wrote. I took a few pictures of the process which all told sucked in the whole of March.

The new floors, though not perfect, are beautiful. And well worth the huge chunk of energy needed to make it happen.

 

Gack…

Some habits die a hard twitching convulsing death. Then some resist even that. Refuse extinction.

Sometimes the internet makes satisfying curiosity and/or succumbing to temptation too easy.

Think I need to take a deep breath. Make myself a cup of matcha. And get started on tearing carpet up. At least then I’ll be accomplishing something productive… whatever. Not necessary to take a momentary set-back as anything more than that, momentary. Practice right? I’ve been doing very well with avoiding that particular pitfall, going to deconstruct and see if I can’t determine where I misstepped.

The dishes done. Countertops wiped down. More wood-flooring uncovered. And I’m still confounded. Damn.

Agghhh! I just found animal armageddon in the basement. Shit. Went down there to get the mop and bucket and…. what a mess.

Okay, a couple of hours have passed. I haven’t made it down to clean the basement yet. However the process of remodeling and spring cleaning is working it’s magic. I’m relaxed, focused, and in general all is now. Think I’ll keep on keepin on and catch you later.

Tearing It Up.

It’s been so busy the past few weeks. It seems I’ve hardly had any down time. Despite that I think I’ve a stretch of days here with nothing much planned. Which is good cause with the arrival of spring I’m feeling the urge to turn the place inside-out.

I started ripping up all the carpets at Grey Manor, can’t stand the damn things. I’m about a quarter of the way done. I’m sure it would go faster if I had the proper equipment but really it’s kind of relaxing. I’d like to put in cork flooring but nothing, sub-flooring is better than what I’ve got going on.

I’m taking a little break to drink some tea, type… I’m crocheting a wool rug to break up the hours. Occasionally taking a phone call or reading a few pages from the latest fantasy read.

Still Dragging that Horse Around?

Shake It Out… 

What’s that saying? Something about being careful when ridding yourself of your devils; that you don’t throw out the very best within you.

 Take Care…

Never Let Me Go.

Thirty-Five.

Sitting at desk, 10:44am.

I intend to write another post today. Yesterday’s didn’t turn out too poorly.

A little yoga. Showered and eating familia, pottage essentially, 12:04.

So someone mentioned, this morning in a B-Day wishes phone call, the Solar Storm of 1859. He said I could look to the northern sky tonight and see the rippling plasma flame across the Rocky Mountains. So I thought I’d Ask an Astrobiologist what the deal was. Cause from MSM — mainstream media I thought maybe I’m seeing (yet another) Millenarianism Movement playing out. Solar Maximums happens every eleven years and the next one isn’t expected till next year anyway. I think my friend very knowledgeable by the way and the following comment  is not directed at him, just people in general, some people will believe anything — no matter how stupid

(Cough)…

I meant to say: Some people behave as though beliefs that totally and completely lack any basis of education and/or reason and/or evidence are ‘real’.

Ask before drinking purple cool-aid.

That’s all I’m saying.

What’s a little LA Rain?

Speaking of how lucky LA was to have had Gotye preform: The Mynabirds are playing tonight at Kilby Court. Totally cool. I couldn’t be more excited. Luck me. So even if I don’t see any Northern Lights I still see What We Gained In the Fire.

12:51.

13:17

Back from walking Love. Crazy beautiful outside. Think I’ll go on my first walk of the season… right now though I’m eating some fancy cracker spread with triple-cream (how ridiculously creamy is that?) cheese. I’m the first to admit I have a taste for the ridiculous.

13:38.

Along a different track… a train-of-thought prepares to leave the station: Yes Boss.

I’ve been wondering as of late… Is there a statute of limitations on leaving a terrible first impression or (god forbid – simply) making a terrible impression? If there is a S of L; how long is it? A year? Four? Seven? A decade? Is the length of time inversely or directly proportional to how big of an Ass you’ve made of yourself? Is early release or probation offered on degree of rehabilitation and habituation? Medical practitioner’s often have a ten year rule, ten years before it’s considered ethical to have a personal relationship with a patient. My Shrink’s rule of thumb is seven years ‘no touchy’.

So how long before it’s polite to reintroduce one’s self? Just a passing thought.

Hey. Hey. Hey… Creation Keeps the Devil Away.  

Calls for a little Walksong.

Okay folks, writing has now given way to a mer montage of music…  and bad alliteration. That’s when I know I should take a break.

“Put your hands up and step away from the computer”

I think I’ll take my camera and go play outside for a while.