Bushwhack

Bushwhack

Oh…the places one could go with that word.  Euphemism for some bedroom behavior?  George W. bashing?  Or, in Monday’s case, literally whacking though the bushes because you're no longer on the trail. 

My son Jackson saw my scratched up legs on Monday night, and questioned me about why they looked like I had lost a fight with a very small velociraptor.  I told him where my friends and I had been, and he offered up the word ‘trail-blazing’.  I think that is a BIT optimistic, implying that someone else should follow in our footsteps.  Nope.  Not quite recommended.  I led a journey across a bee-filled field and into the shady woods, and I didn’t exactly know where I was going. 

Every once in a while (or, sometimes, twice in one week) you make some bad choices that you feel pretty confident about.  A route you once did, in the winter, with a guide, in the dark-ish becomes a GREAT anchor point for a 20 mile run.  Never mind that it’s actually a dumb idea.  As long as you make the decision with confidence, you can also convince others to follow along.  I managed to get Athena and Danielle on this adventure.  We explored some new trails, some un-trails, and got a little beat up. 

But sometimes, it all works out okay!  You get to see chickens, dead snakes, a beautiful gorge, deer bones, a snapping turtle and you sit on a couch made of rocks.  You don’t get stung by a bee.  Sometimes you race a rooster!  Not every dumb idea works out okay.  But some do.  It’s okay to make mistakes.  It’s better if you have supportive friends to help you make your way back to the path.  But the bushwhacking part is part of the journey, too!  Always sticking to established trails may be safe and get you to where you’re supposed to be.  But it doesn’t always get you to where you NEED to be.  

The Real Work, by Wendell Berry

 It may be that when we no longer know what to do

we have come our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go

we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.

Hot air balloon

I had a dream over the weekend.  I had been selected (SELECTED!!) to pilot a hot air balloon on a mission.  What the mission was, in the manner of dreams, was not clear to me.  What I did know, in my heart, that this was a super important matter – perhaps even of national security.  I had been practicing, working, and I thought I was READY.  READY!!

Do, or do not.  There is no try. 

Then came the box.  An impossibly small box to hold my super important balloon.  But nonetheless, it had been delivered.  I unwrapped it.  This hot air balloon was a do-it-yourself kit.  With instructions written in that poorly translated Chinese to English patois that is unique to things manufactured overseas.  What the HELL!  Why did this amazingly critical mission equipment come like this?!

To boot, this balloon was nothing like the ones I had been working with.  It only had FIVE electrical connections.  FIVE!!  NOT six!!  How does anyone make a balloon fly with only five connectors?  (Again, in the manner peculiar to dreams, it was totally sensical that the balloon was electrically powered.  Never Mind there was no basket for me to sit in.)

My sleeping self was giving voice to my inner questions….was this dream was about piloting a balloon?  (PS I REALLY want to go on a hot air balloon ride.)  Was it about taking care of my marriage, renewing my commitment to my job, being a good mom, running across the Grand Canyon… No matter.  Am I doing a good enough job?  Working hard enough on the right things? Am I ready?  Who the fuck knows.  You can only do what you are able. 

I hope I can make the damn balloon fly with only 5 connections.  It’s really important, and I really want to fly.  Tired of bumping around on the ground.

Oh, whoa is me

Nope, not a typo.



You ever get stuck in that 'poor me' attitude?  You know, where everything is just so wrong...you're tired, you're injured, you're "broke", you have poison ivy on your ass?  (or is that last one just my cross to bear?)  You're busy, you haven't seen your _______ (husband, friends, favorite neighborhood bunny) in soooo long you're sure they've forgotten you?  You're feeling fat, ineffective, blah blah blah blah....

And then.  Then.  You take a fucking breath and see how ridiculous you are being?

For real.  Like, honestly, the universe is not out to get you, for one thing.  The universe is far too busy with more important things than making you miserable.  That's pure hubris.

And another thing...your problems...put them into perspective with things that really are a big deal.  Some terrible things have been happening  We are in the middle of awful chaos and unknown things.  An itchy ass?  You had the freedom to be out in the woods, hiking around.  You're tired?  You just got to visit your family scattered all over the midwest and northeast.

What time is it?  Time to get over youself.

A pity party?  Nobody has time to attend, Beth.

Whoa.  Stop.

Take a breath.  And get over it.  Moving on.

It's not a crisis (anymore)

Recently, someone told me I was going through a mid-life crisis.  

You see, I just got a motorcycle. Of course.  

A sure sign of a crisis. They were spot on, just a little late.

Meet Sylvia 

It's not a crisis anymore.  

crisis:  (noun)\ˈkrī-ˌsēz\
1: an emotionally significant event or radical change of status in a person's life <a midlife crisis>
2: the decisive moment (as in a literary plot)
3:  an unstable or crucial time or state of affairs in which a decisive change is impending

Hmm.  Yep.  Sounds about right.  

That was then... when I wasn't sure what the f#$% I was doing, but I did it anyway.  When I screwed up and found out who was there to support me and call me out.  An unstable state of affairs.

Now?  Not a crisis.  Hard work.  A re-evaluation of what's important and how to do it.  Choosing to practice every day gratitude, humility, patience, joy.  Loving.

The motorcycle isn't the crisis.  It's just part of a reinvention.  

I don't have to stay the same, and my life story can't be defined by one chapter.   

The Act of Balancing

Balancing Act

Pretty precarious.

What's your version of balance?    My first instinct is that it looks like this... Something impossible to achieve, and once you get it, you'd better not move.  Or it all comes crashing down.

This doesn't quite resonate with me...It looks beautiful and all...static perfection.  But holding still is not something I want to work towards. 

Holding still does not get you anywhere.  

Oh, that Al Einstein.  Smart guy.

My life certainly is not a model of balance.  I get that.  I have, at times, been able to make it LOOK like I had it under control.  

Only to see I have gone to the extreme, careening out of control, grabbing for the tree as I fall forward.  

If I work really hard on one thing... other important things get left behind.  

Soooooo....maybe somewhere in the middle? Middle.  

Somwhere between frozen immobility and falling over.  

I'm striving for balance right now...and I think I'm a lot closer than I've been in a while.  Moving forward, while keeping things in line.  There are good things ahead in my path, and that's where I'll steer.  

That Ellen...she's pretty smart, too.

Towards the pina AND the colada.