Getting Started

(Early Thoughts) Idea here is to write about my solitude, my look inward, going through the seasons, reflections, thoughts – not the crappy “crybaby” stuff. Deal here with the “inner” voice, not the “outer” voice. Think about what it means to “live,” “live a life,” have a “fully realized life.”
While waiting outside the hospital in Tappahannock, enjoyed two rose bushes. Most blooms were full. Some were just buds. Very nice and peaceful.
We all need breathing room. Breathing room in terms of our health, money, what we do, everything. Breathing room allows relaxation. And probably it allows more enjoyment of the moment, more enjoyment of what we are doing, more enjoyment of our lives. I intend to seek that and relish it.
So, I brought home a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Enjoying it now. The Kobel Extra Dry that we had at Rebecca’s wedding reception. Is just beginning to bring on a buzz, that buzz Huxley talked about in Doors of Perception. I found his view very believable. If we can relax, just a little, that door, that rationality, that whatever, we can experience more, feel more. I do feel there is a point, however, that if we go beyond it, we begin to lose what we have gained and end up in confusion and inability to function as we should. Is that right, or is that the control side of me speaking?
The hardest thing for me is to live with just myself – no buying, no externals. Just me. That will be the challenge. I wonder if the reason it is difficult is that the “me” is just not worth it, doesn’t have anything to offer.
Figure my goal for this year is to work on myself, put everything else aside, face nature as directly as I can comfortably, let my mind work with focus, and take in the world around me fully, knowing that I won’t be able to do that forever. I guess it’s like living as if it’s my final year. Feel it, try to grasp it, and write about it.
Part of my “plan” includes daily exercise. I wonder why this is important. The goal, I guess, is to keep my body working. But at my age, it doesn’t seem like there’s much I can do about my body. I do want to improve my breathing and stamina, so I guess that’s a good enough reason. And my exercises aren’t that severe.
I love the wind. It’s a light breeze this morning, but the rustling leaves are so soothing. I can see birds flying across the sky between the trees, and can even hear a few birds. Mainly I hear the breeze. I don’t live far enough out to be really isolated and alone with nature, but I am the last house on this road and most of the houses near me aren’t occupied, so I can get a sense of isolation. I like that. There are still the ugly telephone poles and wires.
I hear the geese flying south in the distance. Their path doesn’t seem to take them over me, but over the fields along Pope’s Creek, nearly a half mile away, I guess. I can hear them, but I can’t see them. Normally. Sometimes they make it up here. I wonder what determines their path. I would have though the river, but they are going across the river, not along it. Could it be Pope’s Creek?
Was thinking about the difference between Progressing and Doing. Progressing seems to suggest a goal, an accomplishment, while Doing doesn’t. I wonder which is better. I feel I’ve spent way too much time and energy on trying to achieve a goal, complete an accomplishment. The Doing is more important. But do we need the concept of Progressing to make what we Do meaningful? Seems it could add something to the moment that takes away, or certainly changes, the moment. We Do something, yet we have a reason for Doing it, a reason that probably points forward to a goal, an accomplishment. Are we fucked? Are we better off if we really try to just Do something only for and within itself?
Looking out my window I see a tree that has bright yellow and orange leaves. Looking out the window next to it I see only green leaves. Why?
Wondered today why I have lost interest in my art. I have started taking pictures every day, and doing some manipulation of them. But not that much. And I’m certainly not as excited as I was about Photoshop. And of producing a final product that I can frame and maybe sell. I wonder how much has been caused by the Art Guild absurdity? I do know that whatever I do I want to be coming from within me and only me, whatever it is. That, I feel, is important, is the only importance.
Yet what of the notion of community? Shouldn’t I share my art? Shouldn’t I talk to others about it? Shouldn’t I seek their opinion? Maybe those questions have been the cause of my “downfall.” Instead, live within, live and work in solitude. Nothing anyone can say will help me when I die. I’ll be alone then, so why not prepare for it.

(October) These past few days have been mainly days of waiting – waiting for something to happen or someone to show up. Did go to Tappahannock to get an HD TV, so then I had to wait through yesterday for someone to come and connect the HD service. While waiting all day yesterday, I found I couldn’t do much else, like magic. I did manage to trim a couple bushes, but that was about it.
One of the aspects of the repairs I’ve been doing is the cleanliness and order everything is in. So yesterday when the workman left a lot of mud on my porch rug, I got really upset. Even after I cleaned it up, there were marked areas, not of dirt but of the cleaning fluid. And that still upsets me. How funny it is to be upset over this kind of stuff. I do remember years ago when I dropped and broke the lid to the glass cooking pot Allison had given me. I nearly cried. Why did it affect me so much?
But I like this order, and I hope to be able to maintain it. Perhaps it reflects the kind of order I would like within, order and structure and discipline. I do value those attributes.
So quiet sitting on the porch this morning. Has been several warm mornings. Rain too, but not now. I can hear the river waves hitting the shore, not loudly, but just enough to create a soft roar in the background. A car starts down the hill. And I hear another car driving down the road. Those man-made sounds grate on me, while the nature sounds soothe me. Luckily, man’s sounds quickly disappear, and the river waves continue to caress the shore.

(November) A really cold morning. Sitting inside. Forgot to turn on the radio, and the cold and silence really make me feel like it’s winter. I wonder about the music every morning. What difference would it make if I left it off and spent the morning quiet. I think I like it so far. More reflective. And it’s amazing the noises I hear around the house. Will try this for while. I think my coffee grinder screwed up some, or I had it too coarse. A weaker cup.
I look around and see my artwork and recall how intense I was about it all earlier, and how less intense I am now. And the reason? I’m sure the main reason is the lack of decent response the Guild and others. A lot of work for nothing. And it’s amazing how Eric has ignored me completely once I didn’t show up for his photo walk. Even after Pat and I visited them and had them over. Maybe I’ll email him when I go in tomorrow. Stop by Fisheries and WideRiver.
Was thinking about this mortgage thing, and I concluded that in the past I had let too many others have a say in my life. I failed – lack of balls – to assert myself and find myself. All the time I was saying I was seeking myself I was really just seeking the opinions of others. That was my major fault. I think it’s also why I found myself flirting with other women. I wanted their approval. My own approval wasn’t enough. Not sure why that never developed. Can’t blame others for that flaw. Must accept it and move on. So all of this comes down to right now. I am without money. I have a life to finish living. And I have the means and way to do it, IF I stick to my own guns and not let others sway me. I feel I’m justified in all of this as otherwise, I’d be in really bad shape. It’s not the money I’m talking about, but having a nice home and a nice environment around me. I’m sorry that the result means Steven will face a big decision about Driftwood, but if I hadn’t done this, of course, Driftwood wouldn’t even be here when I die.
I look around this living room, and I like it. It feels comfortable. It’s not my folks’ living room anymore. It’s mine.

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