homesteading

It has been 3 months now on the five acre plot of land. The work is so wholesome and requires much effort. Traded fresh eggs and some homemade sweet and spicy pecans for getting my wood chopped by my neighbor. The greatest joy comes from walking into the house from the freezing cold and being instantly snuggled by the radiant heat of my wood-burning stove. I am so so grateful for the wood... and being rattled back into the present by a careless mishap with the chainsaw. Glancing my leg with the chainsaw forced me to let go of my red badge of victim-hood and take deeper breaths. I've been touched and inspired by the work of Karen Armstrong and the Charter for Compassion. Shared dinner with a dear friend. So much calls for gratitude. Any problems are high-class and should be kept in perspective. Enjoying the kids and trying to remember how to best respond to their early-adolescent selves. Love is all around.

country mouse, city mouse

I decided to stay home (Plan A), yet I am faced with the decision to move again. It all seems so complicated and overwhelming. I am tired of the intensity. This option comes with crazy timing... out of my house in 9 days or less.

The question is more about the city vs. the country. Can I live out in the country and still be close to my beloved neighborhood friends? Am I trying to escape the unsettled feelings of loss around my job and work community? Is it a good idea to be so isolated? Will I feel more unsettled once I am alone or will I move through this transition more effectively in a different space?

I recognize the desire to start fresh. Love the property there, hate it here. Mostly hate the house there... mostly love my house here. Love the space there, hate being cramped here. Kids will love it either place...

I have been saying for years that I wish I could move to the country. Now there is a chance and it is all crazy and hard to discern.

just when I think I know...

09/10 Plan A:
Stay. Take a break. Finish research and synthesis papers. Complete masters degree coursework. Be present for my children. Organize, repair and simplify my home environment. Collect unemployment. Experience heightened financial stress. Look for a job. Perhaps create a farm program starting with weekend retreats, growing into a summer camp program. Retain community support. Gather fresh eggs every morning. Kids in a pretty good school.


09/10 Plan B:
Move with the kids. Take a job for which I am not trained. Finish research and synthesis papers. Complete masters degree coursework. Organize, purge, pack and unpack my home environment within two weeks. Experience heightened work stress. Rebuild community support. Enjoy Lake Michigan daily. Deal with rent here and rent there. Kids in an outstanding school.

09/10 Plan C:
Move without the kids. Take a job for which I am not trained. Finish research and synthesis papers. Complete masters degree coursework. Live with C&J. Commute home on the weekends and school breaks to be with the kids. Experience heightened work stress. Enjoy Lake Michigan, gather eggs on the weekends. Kids in a pretty good school (would like to take Cameron with me for the middle school).

Dust by Wendell Berry

The dust motes float
and swerve in the sunbeam,
as lively as worlds,
and I remember my brother
when we were boys:
"We may be living on an atom
in somebody's wallpaper."

beauty in the transition

In this time of transition, I try to remember to look for the possibilities that may arise in this situation. I ask myself, what opportunities will surface as a result of the changes I must unexpectedly face? I have to stay awake and aware so I recognize them.

I was encouraged today by a friend to write down anything that comes to mind that may be a viable path for me. We were canning tomatoes and feeling quite noble about it. "Out of the many ideas you write down," she said, "you will recognize 3 or 4 really good ones. You have mentioned 2 or 3 ideas already today." I wonder why I have resisted writing during this time... I have been carrying it all around in my head, which makes me very irritable. I have been spending way to much time trying to remember details and truths and lies and what she said and what I said and what matters and what doesn't. Maybe it hasn't been a resistance at all. I think that I had always felt too busy... but now I realize I do have time, and will be better off writing than watching TV shows every night.

What have I been up to since I learned of my unemployment? Cried. Drove to NC, took a job, drove home, cried and rejected the job. Organized the garage. Cried. Took a trip to Grand Haven. Painted the bathroom. Cried. Bought lumber to start the chicken coop. Borrowed a carpet cleaner. Called on many friends for support. Cried. Fell in love with the Blue Tractor and allowed myself to enjoy onion rings again. Went to see Food, Inc. Cried. Started a blog. Canned tomatoes.

This day of canning tomatoes came after long conversations with other amazing friends who have all been so incredible... oozing with love, patience, understanding, kindness, loyalty, honesty, packing skills, jokes, hugs, beer, encouragement, quietness. I am so grateful for the support I have experienced... it held me up and continues to do so.

So what does a single mom do when she is happily settled with deep roots in a loving and supportive community that resonates with her soul but has no work? I am trying to figure out if I should uproot myself, kids, chickens and cats and move on over to the west side of Michigan. There is a job there. With people who love teaching adolescents as much as I do. Apparently I can build community anywhere I go, but I don't think I want to leave the one I am in.

I have come to terms with some truth about myself in relationship to the former school. My dreams for that particular program in that particular school were only an illusion, I guess as dreams are by definition. Funny how obvious it becomes when I write it down and read it to myself. This is a gift amidst this crazy time...

I like this photo taken by a river in Mohican State Park in Ohio... The unseen memory of a tight bud, opening, growing, doing miraculous yet common work to turn the sun into food for the tree, growing, aging, drying, silently falling, resting on the stones, washed by the rain, cells deteriorating, a complex network of veins appearing. Maybe the leaf was not prepared for its release from the tree that it worked so hard to feed... it was connected and knew no other life. However, the work of the leaf had great purpose and the universe was better for it. When I saw the leaf by the river, I stopped in my tracks and gasped at the beauty. "Look at this leaf!" I said to my kids. They loved it, too, and smiled.