I’m starting to get a little antsy here in my Granby rental. The weather has kept me indoors for the most part as I did not come well prepared for the snow, and it has been snowing on and off since I arrived 5 days ago. I chose to leave most of my snow clothes in storage silly me. What was I thinking???? I was thinking, "It will be spring and I’m not interested in skiing so let’s leave it behind." Of course it is all perfect since my reason for coming here was to be somewhat reclusive and focus on my painting / writing / photography. Is this not what I asked for? Thank you Universe!
Roxy doesn’t seem terribly excited to go outside either and refuses to walk much. The roads are uneven and rocky and cold and wet and I imagine maybe even a little scary for a dog that has grown up at the beach in mostly warm weather. And then there is the unsettling feeling of not knowing what wildlife is out there in this remote area. Would I feel more secure with a pistol? Perhaps, but I do not have any interest in owning or shooting one even though somehow it seems like the wise thing to do. I am reminded of Meryl Streep and Robert Redford as they faced down a charging lion in Out of Africa and I feel like a fish out of water. What happened to the days of living in the Green Mountains of Vermont? It’s not like I’m a rookie, is it? I suppose that spending the majority of my adult life in the tropics has transformed my mountaineer persona. Nothing I can’t relearn though…
The painting / photography / writing thing is going well. I spent a good part of the day at the computer yesterday working on client materials. I’m reading a lot and preparing healthy meals. Listening to music all day long and continuing to study the market. Yesterday I approached the baby grand in the living room and much to my delight, could actually read the Beatles songbook and enjoyed playing “If I Fell”. It must be at least 25 years since I banged out anything of substance on a piano. So why then did I play only one song and walk away?
I’m not exercising or meditating, though I long to. I am looking into yoga classes and researching the hiking areas nearby and will do some of that tomorrow.
This is by far the weirdest experience I’ve ever had. To be honest, I love / hate it. The solitude that is. I feel somewhat guilty that I am not doing more than I am. That “doer” instinct is nagging me to achieve achieve and have more to show for it at the end of the day. Allowing myself the time and space to wander from one thing to the next without rules is somewhat daunting. The work habit, the life that revolves around that, is hard for me to leave behind, even if it is only temporary. I dabble in this and that rather than immersing. I am easily distracted by my thoughts and do not seem to be able to fully embrace any of the things I am wanting to do. With all this time on my hands, there is too much time. With all this peacefulness, I am not feeling very tranquil. I “should” be doing more!
Does it all boil down to believing that more is the answer? To do more. Be more. Have more? When am I going to accept that it is all enough right now just as it is? Of course pushing through this wall is what this is all about and I actually see that I'm doing that. I worked on my painting today and I am starting to see it come together. I set up a yoga / meditation area in the house. And the sun just came out! Hallelujah!
I miss my townhouse by the beach. There I’ve said it! I do. I’m still processing some of that sadness I suppose. And wondering what will be next. Where will I live? It is difficult to live with so much uncertainty in a space that is so foreign and unfamiliar. There are none of the usual comforts – friends, family, familiar surroundings - to give me the illusion of certainty. I wonder where I will be a month from now. Two months from now. What is it that makes me feel this is any more uncertain than any other time in my life?
I know that the beauty here, in Granby, Colorado, is astonishing. And I am glad I came. It is more than just the scenery of course, although that is the catalyst. The beauty I see is tempered by a tremendous amount of fear - more than I expected. The questioning, the doubts, are challenging me to be present. Before I know it, I will be moving on from this too and I just need to be still. It's funny how even in such a silent space, there is so much chatter.
Namaste.
