Saturday thoughts

" the truth is, of course, that we can always trust the soul to pilot our craft wisely and to know, like a migrating swallow, the true direction of our journey, even if that direction is one the ego might not like or approve. After all, only soul has the proper map. The map we carry around in the pockets of our everyday minds is but a blurred photocopy of one tiny seciton, so how could we possibly presume to navigate from that?"

Every now and then I am brought up short by someone writing words that have been rolling around in my consciousness for a time. This quote is from a book called "Elderwoman" given to me last year by Susan. I have been having mental conversations with myself and others lately about life and love and choices and how we get from here to there. Trying to explain this inner sense that I am where I need to be, that what is put in front of me is not an accident, and that I turn to that thing during times in my life when I might be casting around looking for other things. I turn to what is there. It is because of this very belief, that my Soul knows and can see the map even if I can't. I've learned to trust that. It's fun to find something like this on a gray Saturday morning when I am feeling a bit disconnected.

Big Sigh

Ahh, and not a good or a bad sigh, really, just a sigh. Mo left this morning for Klamath after the two of us spending more than a month traveling, and then a month remodeling. I am now back to me, some space, time to do nothing. No painting walls after work, and I can lie in bed and eat ice cream if I want. Ha! There ARE some guilty pleasures to living alone. Although if I had to choose I would give up eating ice cream in bed for comfortable companionship.

Susan and I have talked about this a lot. How do you keep from losing yourself in the process of sharing life with another person. I am not sure, because no matter how much I feel as though I am an independent entity, there are still subtle differences around the way I am when Mo is around and when she isn't. But I'm not so sure that's a bad thing. Most of the places where I am different are self indulgent kinds of things that I don't do so much when I am not alone. Whining. I don't whine as much. Hah! Now that's funny to me even as I write it.

Although I don't have as much time to listen to others whining either, and maybe sometimes sharing that gentle thing, that little bit of whining thing, with friends, isn't so bad. I'm not sure. I am re-evaluating some of that I guess.

But I am not whining right now, not even to myself. I have 3 weeks of alone working time, get the house cleaned up, all rooms at once finally, relax a bit, work long hours again and get caught up on things, and then we leave for Kauai. 3 weeks alone is a nice thing, I think. Nice thing when I know it's not the way my life is going forever, and that I will have some companionship more often than not. Makes the alone thing quite pleasureable actually.

Maryruth will come this weekend to visit for a couple of days and we can have some girl time. We will play cards and cook and eat and talk about our kids and lives and laugh a lot as usual. Nothing like lifetime girlfriends for that kind of thing. I am blessed.

I am blessed this day because it isn't raining or snowing or blowing or hot, it's just a clear lovely cool beautiful day in California in February. My most whiney month. In days past when I would call Maryruth and be all out of sorts and unhappy, she would say, "Gee, it must be February". Long cold wet gray winter days that go on forever with no end it sight, and no sunlight would just do me in. At the moment I am watching the sun brighten the hills as it comes up all golden and peach colored, and the live oaks with their full leafed out canopies are still green above the green grass of the ball field at the school across the street from my office. Not a bad February view, and not a bad day for Mo to be driving north, up I-5, home to Klamath. Back to several feet of snow and freezing fog. Gee, that sounds fun! Ha again. I am counting my blessings

Decision

So after what seems likes weeks of rain, the sun is shining today. This weekend Mo and I finished up another bathroom and started on the last 2 bedrooms. It's amazing what color and texture and fresh trim can do for a room. I love it. My big master bath looks really clean and lovely, and before Mo leaves next week, the whole project should be finished.

And I have been thinking. and thinking. and thinking. Only the drivel has finally settled into a decision, and I have decided that the move isn't worth it. After 60 plus years of living, I know the signs. I remember the times when I have agonized over choices like this, and had those dreams that brought up the warnings. I remember the times I listened and the times that I didn't. There are always issues, and always choices, and always drawbacks and advantages, but I am listening to the voice inside that keeps nagging me at 3 in the morning, that populates my dreams, and my waking hours with should I, shouldn't I, should I.

And it seems that I shouldn't, so I won't. I have decided that I am going to stay here and just ride it out for the next year, maybe a bit more, but no more than June of 2009. The uncertainty of the actual reality of the MLRA job in Redmond is the bigger issue, the fact that this initial focus is as big in Oregon as it is in California, and I could end up just being the same kind of glorified project leader there that I am here. Mapping and digging instead of managing and correlating. That would be my biggest reason for moving. Reality is that even 3 hours distant is still hard to do often. How many times would I actually get to Portland or Albany in the next year anyway, especially if I am dealing with a new job, a new assignment, a new crew, new expectations. Then of course, there is my attachment to my home. I need my home, my space, my colors, all the things that make a space feel good to me, and here finally I have that. The world outside can be pretty awful sometimes, but my inner space is my sanctuary, my haven, my respite. Could I live 2 years in a nondescript apartment, or a studio space, no home, nothing that is mine, while I work, probably on travel most of the time, and who knows in what kind of office space.??

I finally decided that the known issues are easier to manage than the unknown. I finally decided that I am, yes I am going to say it, too damn old to keep doing this jumping off thing! I am going to be prudent, and focus, and just get this part of my life over and on to the next part without shooting myself in the foot in the mean time. No matter where I go, there I am. The work load will ALWAYS be too much in this agency, the work will ALWAYS be more physical that I am ready to keep doing after 30 years. I'm burned out, I guess, and tired, and ready to retire, and that won't be any different in Redmond than it is here. I can't run from the realities of it all. I can just do the best I can right where I am.

Mo had been really supportive of whatever choice I made, but I laughed when she said the other day, "Well, if you decide to stay here, I'll make a commitment to come down at least one week a month until you are done, and I'll pay for your move back to Oregon". So that, in itself, wouldn't make or break the decision, but it did let me know just how worried she is about me leaving the mobile unsold before the market gets better. It's not fiscally smart for me to think I can pay 500 a month for nothing, for it just to sit here until it sells, while I am trying to keep from losing my empty house in Klamath and keep a roof over my head in a new world. All over again. So not again.

I know myself, and no matter where I go, there is that 2 year thing that happens, that unsettled thing. It's just possibly starting to dissipate a bit here, or maybe not, maybe it's only right now in the clear cool unsmoggy sunlight that I feel this way. But I remember early Saturday mornings going to the farmer's market, huge sweet tomatoes, and the few months of green lovely hills before the crispy summer arrives. I can live through one more summer of crispy hot hell. Just one more. But I will have my home, and Mo will visit, and the farmers market, and the work will be heavy and hard, but I can do it one more time. Just one more time.

So I am here. And will be here till I am done.