the end of the year

so here we are at the end of the year, and I am thinking about what i have learned. I learned I need to create, in ways that feel creative to me, as I am doing the work, letting the work through me, it is not optional. it is nourishment. it is essential. I have learned that too much work is not the blessing it may appear to be, but can impact everything in ways that feel like suffocation. that right work in right amounts is delicious. i have learned that my body and mind are brave and that my panic was/is pain trying to express itself. be heard. be understood. be accepted. and pushing it down and away is impossible. pull up a chair and listen, katekate. That is what it needs. after panic I need rest. full rest. sleep or distraction. I need to refill. i have learned I am not good at that. I bullshit myself. I am excellent at that. time to trade a little of my excellence in bs into excellence in self care. unapologetic. simply necessary. i have learned that I need connection that is simple. and I need conversations that are complex. that I need beauty that is simple. and beauty that is beyond imagining. I need to make space(s) for myself and within myself to hold who I am growing into, so I don't take the shape of an old container like a pot bound plant. I define the shape by my growing. i have learned that loving others is what I am here to do. and that others includes me. i have learned that doing my best work means telling the truth, even silently to myself. i have learned that I can speak, and that the listening is not up to me. but that I can speak in ways that make it more likely to be heard. I have learned that my enthusiasm can be a deterrent. too much. and the best I can do is laugh and call it what it is, and know that it is a filter. if I am too much, then maybe the work is not the right work, or the person is not the right fit, or the time is not right. my enthusiasm is a gift. but so is my conscious awareness of others. let me bring both together more harmoniously in the new year. i have learned that my changing body does not mean I have to reject myself because I am no longer familiar. it is an invitation to renew my own familiarity with this place I call home. recognizing I am in a time of rapid and chaotic transition. my needs will change as fast as my topography and my chemistry, and i need to cultivate self compassion, curiosity and fluidity in adapting. I have learned that love can be deep and distant, can be simple and complicated. that I can love and be loved and not understand or be understood. and that understanding is simply not as necessary as acceptance. If I wish to be accepted as myself. i need to accept others as themselves too. it goes both ways. both. in and out. out and in. like breath. i have learned that my mosaic of friends and family create the reality of my support system. that no one can hold the whole of my needs and no one should. I have learned to be a better piece in the mosaic of others'. I cannot be everything to anyone else either. i have learned that i know shit about parenting and my history of abuse and codependence makes this so so hard as I dance the crazy impossible certain to fail dance of conflict avoidance... but am doing my best with a smart sensitive spirited sprite whose energy outpaces mine like an Australian sheep dog. i am learning the difference between reacting and responding. this, my friends, is slow painful learning. i have learned how much of my life is tethered by a self I tend to so rarely. the one who is me. not the roles, the duties, the actions, the work. but this kateness, this one. this one who sits and writes and words come out like salty water of tears of joy and relief, face turned upwards toward whatever is out there, that connects with all and the everything, including all that is in here.

As above, not always, as below

So here we are.
April.
Snow still up over my boots, but a serious melt happening right now. The sky is full of clouds saying rain soon, rain soon, rain soon, as if that is a surprise. The earth is heavy with water right now, while on the other side of the earth, this rain, this snow, this water would be traded for gold.

So here I am.
Kate.
Snow still up over my boots, and life happening both above and below ground. Above ground, I turned 50. Della is growing fast, and teenagering already, and Doug is nearly ready for his seasons away at camp.  And I am not ready for that, not really. But here we are.

Below ground, I feel a little more stable. New medication holds the wolves of panic at bay. And I am returning slowly slowly to something that feels more like I used to. At least more like I used to.  But different. I'm different. And I can feel the change in my bones.

I do not want to live wary. (I choose this word, not warily)-- I do not want to live in fear.
I don't. I don't want to live waiting for the wolves to come and steal my happy, steal my autonomy, steal my sense of safety.  I don't want to feel as if my grip is tenuous. I want to feel strong and rooted and ready and able.
And I am shoring those up, digging deep, nourishing myself, and trying not to freak the fuck out when a windstorm comes and shakes the whole thing down and down and down.

I want to tell you about parenting and how, at 50, I am still panging with whateveritis that hurts when pregnancies are announced, and when little ones are passed, arms to arms, and the beginnings, so sweet, leave a longing.  I want to tell you we talk about adopting and how, here I am, knees and soul creaky, imagining and not being able to imagine. Not with this child, not in this lifetime, and then I feel bad for feeling that. As if I should be open.  But my openness is to not knowing what will come. Right now my heart is open in the direction of a family member needing extra love. And maybe that is what I am built for, yes, extra love-- here and here and here and here.

I want to tell you I am working hard at work that pays me with people I love. And I want to say that that is enough. But it isn't. I want to be creating more, writing, learning, self-directing.  My financial fear is still in place, month by month, we make it. Have more than most on the planet, and yet, we are of that group that is one emergency away from catastrophe. So for now, I kiss the ground in gratitude, and make lists of things I want to do when I have time, when I allow myself time.

I want to tell you I am taking care of my body, eating well, and walking and spending time outside. But my last two foods were potato chips and potato chips, and I walked to get them at the kitchen counter but I don't think that counts.

I want to tell you that I am flourishing in this post infertility era, this mid life, this amazing life, and I am and I'm not. there is no post-infertility. there is no post loss. there is life after, yes, but it is never "post", it does not recede. it rides shotgun. and I have come to realize that is what this is. a companion of sorts, a thing that is part of my experience that is not undoable.

I want to stay and write all day, I ache for this ache ache ache for this
but now, the timer is going off, the one that keeps me on track (HA HA HA HA HA)
and, coincidentally, also means my egg is ready to eat. the one I have boiled and will peel and will imagine it is anything other than what it is.

brain yoga

In spite of the weather, I'm having a rather wonderful weekend.
I'm really enjoying the campfire workshop over on Heartwork.
If you're interested, here's a link to the opening campfire post from Friday night. Trying new things (without an obvious downside) feels really good to my brain. Like a brain yoga class.

It's not too late to check it out. And it is free. And really surprisingly fun.
As an added bonus, there's a funny video featuring a cameo of Della.
Hope you'll stop by.
(While you're there, check out the Retreats tab-- something exciting coming soon there too!!!!)

3:3, percussive reset

Well then,
now where were we?

Ahh yes, percussive restart.
Barforama
Yes, it got me too. I thought I would *die* and I wish I were exaggerating.  Worse than labor, and kidney stones. I felt well and truly poisoned, and very very close to passing out many times.  But. Done with that and expecting a rapid recovery. Della is much better, although still off her food, and Doug, who was last to get it and had a different version, is tired as can be but is ok.
Somehow, we are ok.
Tired tired tired with no stamina, but ok.

But The Dread was exhausting and draining and the experience was intense and frightening,
and now, it is over and I feel nearly giddy
and would dance a bit, you know, if I could imagine lifting my feet off the ground. I'll jiggle and weave a bit now, sitting. It feels safer.

On a very plus note, after a few months of increasing discomfort and panic, culminating in a trip to see a new counsellor for some EMDR once I identified my triggers as triggers...I took action.
I made some hard choices as the year wrapped up about how I can best and realistically deal with my financial situation and feel relieved. I realize there might actually be a balance between what my brain knows sometimes and what my heart needs, and this time I feel I found it.

I also did some creative collecting this weekend-- a few opportunities to gather some images as fodder for my paintings.

It was fabulously foggy, with snow, and wet bark, and mmmmmmmmmmm
texture of corn fields, and dried weeds.

yes, I know I am nutty, but this stuff actually feeds me.

And for once? I allowed myself to be fed, to take the time to notice, take it in, and actually grab a few snapshots so I can evoke some of the same mmmmm in the future.

So-- yes, barfing and decluttering and trying to find some balance, and choosing pretty carefully (in this moment) what to put back in.

I really missed my campfire gathering, but felt I made progress this weekend finding my way back to what I know.

Hard to realize just how easy it is to lose sight of things that work when things aren't working.

My first guest post!

I am VERY excited.
I'm just sayin'.
Please stop by Dani's blog and share the love.

http://lifeunconstrained.com/blog

An invitation

I want to invite you all to join me on March 23,24 and 25th for a completely free virtual weekend retreat. Wherever you may be, let’s join psychic forces and share the intention to move one of our creative projects (or more!) closer to completion.  

Most of us have a backlog of unfinished business.

Most of us have creative projects, not quite abandoned, but left in some intermediate point between the sweet intensity of the beginning of a creative endeavor and the equally sweet but often loaded end.

Some projects may be close to being done but we just have not been able to do that last thing… or we have hesitated to call it “done” so we can move on. Having the project remain open and unfinished is often important to us.

Maybe over the course of the weekend we can finish something, wrap it up, release it…. or maybe we can move one of our projects closer to completion… or maybe the most we can do with the time available is to make an honest assessment about what it will take to bring one of our projects to some sort of closure…

And let’s take advantage of  the moment and the shared experience to expand this to a more general atmosphere of assessment and release: What habits of thought or work habits or avoidance habits are no longer serving us? What can we let go of so we can more forward with a little less weight?

The retreat will open with a virtual campfire friday night the 23rd with a video greeting from me (view it anytime!)– and throughout the weekend I’ll be posting several videos and short entries to support the difficult but rewarding work of finishing and letting go.

The hope is that no matter where you are, no matter what your time zone, or family situation, or amount of energy or time, we can join together with the shared intention of addressing challenges in our creative lives with whatever time we have- 5 minutes, fine! a whole day? magnificent!

Even if you have just a few minutes to join in, stop by at my heartwork site or at that place we go for a little support and community building (please share comments!)– I’ll be trying something new this time and I’ll be cross posting in both locations.

Know someone who might be interested? Please pass it on! The invitation is open!

Solstice

Today was cold and rainy, with the kind of air that pushes woodsmoke down like fog. This morning I watched the sky turn light through windows skimmed with condensation, and now, on this second shortest day, it is already dark enough at 4:30 that I can barely see the pines against the nearly black sky.

What I really want to say is thank you. Sincerely. Big-heartedly. Your comments helped knit me back together.

I'll just do what I do here.
And I'll start by posting an image of one of the paintings I did a few weeks back during the campfire weekend.  No need to comment on it. This kind of stuff is really personal, and no two people respond the same way. I want to share it because I like it. Here it is: abstracted November.

Tomorrow will be dark too. But then, the next day? LIGHTER.

Invitation: September 16-18, 2011

Hey there internets. Creative? Unsure? Creative-curious? Please come check out my impulsive I-am-crazy-to-do-this-with-a-baby-idea for this weekend.

That place we go...

-8

Hello folks!

Thanks everyone (always always) for your good wishes. It is so great to hear from some of my posse from when I first started blogging. It means the world to me that you would still check in and celebrate along with me after all of this time, all of these struggles, all of this life.

Emily Erin, thank you for the link! And yes, estimated is just that- but it gives me a number to work around, even if we go into +5, +6.... I just know they won't let me go much longer than the end of week 41 since there is no uncertainty about the date of conception.

I don't mind waiting- I know,I know, I am a freak. But really, this all seems unreal to me, and I don't have any desire to rush it. I am curious beyond measure, but also feeling very lucky. I painted my own toenails today, can still move comfortably considering my immense belly, have been blessed with low blood pressure, bladder control...

pelvic pain sucks ass (seriously) but does not hurt unless I am lounging or lying down.

But-- I guess this is the but that has faced pregnant folks forever-- not knowing when is weird.

I go out I wonder... I stay in, I wonder... I am wondering wondering wondering. Any new sensation? I wonder. A big braxton hicks contraction plus cramping, I look at the clock and I wonder... so I can definitely see how I can become consumed by wondering, by watchfulness, by peripheral attentiveness, a very low key "constant vigilance".

***

So thursday evening I finished my 30 prompts for November-- they're all scheduled and ready to go starting one minute after midnight on the 1st (go to my Heartwork site for a link to the prompts)-- for any of you doing NaNoWriMo or just wanting 30 little snippets to make you go hmmm.

Today, my darlin and I have been talking about a changing table that can change into a kid's desk... and he is off shortly for wood.

And I'll be baking cookies today for some folks who will come help Doug move wood piles around (not much fun) and then..... painting? some writing?

again, letting myself off the hook for worksearchstuff is really really hard.

dazzling sunshine and ice on the deck this morning,

the sun cleared the treetops at 8:08

and the moon last night, Oh my, the moon.