An apple. A clementine. Another spider in my room.

Turning toward the self.

Alligator Hill

I’m thinking a lot about being without distractions. Living in the woods means I’m not going out to eat as much, I’m not losing control of myself at Target, and there’s really no people or things to fall into when I’m bored. I’m also definitely noticing how often I try to buy things online when I don’t know what else to do, which often means I am feeling a sense of lack. Now there’s really nowhere to turn in these moments other than toward myself, which is both really exciting and wildly uncomfortable.

Lately when I’m catching up on the phone with friends and family it feels as though they have so much to say about what’s happening in their lives and then it’s my turn and all I have to offer are some very small updates that mostly focus on hearing squirrels run pat-pat-pat across the roof over my room or how many deer I saw that day. It’s made me feel…. not enough, in a way I didn’t expect. And of course I know that’s not true. If anything, I am more of myself here in a wonderfully powerful way. All there is is enough of me, and as the months pass I know that this place and my life will actually start to overflow with aspects of myself that finally get to say hello and enjoy being seen.

There’s just no more hiding. No more avoiding.

There is just me and my life.

Something I often recommend to people is to take frequent inventory of what they’re devoted to. Which themes feel really important right now? What do you want to be experiencing and do your daily actions support your quest?

Right now I am devoted to structure, deep breathing, patience with Cowboy, slowness, physical strength, and valuing my voice. I keep them all in mind every day as I move through my routines and I look for opportunities to touch each one at least once before the day is through.

I get up, I make my hot water with lemon.
I eat my breakfast. I drink my coffee. I heard it’s better to have coffee after you’ve eaten instead of before, and I think that theory really has something going for it.
I kiss Cowboy at least twenty times before 9 am.
I log on for work (this one’s new), I sit through meetings, I fidget uncontrollably for hours and wonder why no one else on Zoom seems to be fidgeting as much as me.
I roll my neck again and again.
I have no less than 4 drinks sitting in front of me to choose from. The pineapple/coconut Bubly waters are really doing it for me.
I open Instagram about a hundred times because I can’t focus on the meetings.
I go for a twenty minute walk on my lunch break and I laugh at Cowboy’s shadow and I remind him lovingly, endlessly not to pull on the leash.
I smile and breathe deeply because it’s my favorite time of year, 62 and sunny and blue and orange and red and yellow.
The crows follow me.
The woven ankle bracelet my niece made for me over two years ago slides down in my sock and lodges itself painfully between my boot and my skin.
I pass my favorite house, a large converted green and cream colored chapel, and wonder if they’ve done the inside justice or if it’s awful and I love it either way.
I make lunch, usually something with kale and chickpeas, and realize I’ve been eating really healthy for awhile now and I’ve learned how to make it taste great every time. (it’s sauce, it’s always some kind of sauce)
I log back on for work and decide to be present and I speak up and I feel smart and I’m proud of myself and I wonder how long I’ll stay with this one.
More kisses for Cowboy. I rub his belly and he lets two vampire teeth show and I think it’s the funniest thing a dog’s ever done.
An apple. A clementine. Another spider in my room.
The moment I close my laptop I practically fly out of my chair for an hour and a half walk where I am stopped by multiple people who want to know all about Cowboy and then remind me that winter will bring so much quiet and I wonder what will happen when there’s more of it.
A couple phone calls with people I miss so much that I can barely stand it. Gratitude for their long-distance love and care.
Dinner. Another full sink. Another full belly and extra-full heart.
And then… who knows? I am stretching, I am cleaning, I am writing, I am reading, I am waiting for new House of the Dragon episodes, I am thinking about things I want to buy, I am not hydrated enough, I am wondering about the likelihood of meeting someone to date here, I am planning my next tattoos, I am alive.

Is it all just details? Is it fullness? Is it a life I am proud of?

I think so. I think I’m proud of myself for doing this.
I’m just trying to find out what might happen if I let myself live simply, just for a little bit. I’m trying to see what’s left when all the noise is gone. Even if I’m embarrassed to admit on the phone that I don’t have much going on. Even if I’m afraid people will begin to call me less because of it.

I just want to know what I really bring to the table.
I want to clear away the stagnant debris so that I can show up fully engaged.
I don’t want all sorts of chaos that doesn’t need my time and attention anymore to get in the way of me showing up for myself or the people I love or the communities who need safety and support.
I want to be vibrant and available and spacious. It’s the least I can do.

Empire Beach. First time he saw the lake.

I love you. Thanks.