Glad Tidings

I recently realized that my boredom and stagnation has arrived due in part to lack of work on my emotional self. When we stop pushing ourselves to improve, reflect and explore, we get further away from what makes us unique and interesting to others and content and centered with ourselves.

One of my goals is to be present rather than just be. So yesterday I pulled myself away from the television, dressed in warm clothing and walked the dogs around town at night. It was exactly what we all needed--to savor a beautiful moonlit night by the nearly frozen river. It was a simple act that I used to do daily and have recently let fall by the wayside because I've felt "too busy." I should never be too busy to walk the dogs and enjoy 30 minutes of taking in my surroundings. It's not my hectic schedule, but rather it's my laziness the prevents those walks. Last night I gave myself the gift of motivation and it paid me back in dividends.

My man and I exchanged gifts yesterday, a bit early. I now have a few more tools in my arsenal that are sure to push me beyond my comfort zone: New wetsuit gear for warmth in very cold water (i.e., surfing is not relegated only to warm summer months now), a brand new (hand-made in the U.S.) board that will make surfing easier and more enjoyable for me as I continue to learn. Surfing allows me to be fully present because it's a challenging workout and, as a beginner, I have so much to learn and analyze and think about out there. I don't have time to think about surfing AND worry about what to make for dinner this week or ruminate on projects for work. I experience the wave motion, my body's movements, the force of the water, what works and doesn't work for me. I can laugh at myself when I get tossed by a wave or crack a huge grin when I catch a wave but end up surfing on my belly because I didn't stand up quickly enough.

We also have a gift certificate to take an introductory lesson for the indoor climbing gym nearby, a big step for me with my fear of heights and lack of arm strength. I have a feeling it will do the same thing for me as surfing does: it will get me to focus on what I'm doing in the present, to enjoy and to let go. Yoga does the same thing, and so does contra dancing. All these activities push my boundaries and make me slightly (or more than slightly) uncomfortable at times. They all make me reflect on how I can be better physically and mentally. I leave the experiences ready to embrace life a little larger, I am a better person to those I love, I can rest more easily.

Rather than collect more stuff this season, I remain committed to decluttering my life and simplifying. So, for every item in, it's time to take a few others over to Goodwill. I'll be going through my belongings this evening to see what I can donate to make up for my new gifts. But the best gift of all is knowing that I'm on the cusp of the plateau, about to move forward once again and expand my horizons.

work in progress

Quick self-improvement update!

Last Friday, I forced myself to go to the monthly bluegrass jam, despite not having practiced my banjo in eons. I didn't lead any of the songs, but I strummed along in the background. Even that is really uncomfortable for me, however--anything that calls attention to me in the public eye is super tough for me to do. I seem to have some sort of low-level anxiety attacks. I always enjoy the jams, just not showing off how poorly I play. So I've decided to choose one song per month to practice and get ready for the following month's jam so I can actually lead a song each time. I'm hoping that by next summer, I'll be much more comfortable playing in front of other people so I can spend more time smiling at the jams instead of worrying about their perceptions of my playing abilities. It's a laid-back jam, not the Boston Pops. I need to keep this in mind!

This weekend, I made an effort to stifle my insecurities, worries and negative thoughts that tend to creep up. Instead, I tried my best to project my happier side. It seemed to work quite well, because all weekend I was surrounded by happiness from everyone I spent time with--exactly what I needed for more confidence. Feeling much better this week, which is a great way to start off a rainy Monday.

The Rut

Work, gym, eat, watch movie while knitting, sleep. Repeat. Not my preferred routine but here I am, stuck in this rut with no signs of change. Why? No snow for snowshoeing, too cold to get outside and experience life. Easy excuses. But really, why?

The answer was, at first, elusive. And then it hit me: I had stopped working on emotional self-improvement.

That's why I am stuck, bored, lethargic, zombie-like. My muscles are slowly toning up from the gym, but my brain and soul are in deep hibernation. I don't like this trajectory one bit. Wherefore art thou, balance?

So I revisited my Universe list I wrote two years ago. My friend Amie had told me about this list she made up of all the characteristics she wanted in a mate. She asked the Universe to find a mate that matched those qualities. A month later, she found her fiancee.

I wrote my own Universe list, edited it over and over again, and in that process I realized those are the very same characteristics I needed to manifest in my own life, behaviors I needed to improve for me to be happy with myself, above all else. I began to work on that list for self-improvement. And what do you know, four months after that list was finalized, I met Jeff.

But since then, I have lost touch with many of the traits on that list. "Can communicate well." My communication had essentially shut down recently, for various reasons. "Makes me laugh." When was the last time I experienced something on my own that made me laugh? I frowned. This was not a good sign.

And yet, the great thing about this realization is that now I know the cause for my symptoms. I can treat the real seed of this issue and thus erase my boredom, my zombie expression, my current passive method of living. It's time to shake things up! I have some good ideas that don't require snow to enjoy my life as it is right now in the dead of winter. I think the time has come to shake off that fog and get back in touch with the cool me I know I can be.

My goal: do one thing per day that allows me to change my routine, break out of my shell, get back to the me that I love, practice living actively and in the moment. It can be simple: meditation. It can be big: going to the indoor climbing gym nearby to try something new and somewhat scary. It's time to get back into the life I want to live.

Mountains O' Things

I promise I am not a packrat. I prefer to think of myself as a practical, frugal woman who follows in her ancestors' footsteps.

The truth of the matter is that I come from a long line of Pennsylvania Germans who farmed the land for generations and survived tough times thanks to making do with what they had. The ultimate conservationists, nothing was thrown away until every possible use was wrung out of an item.

Pappy Marbarger kept everything--old toilets, bits of string--because "you never know when you'll need these things." The farmhouse is full of strange inventions that, surprisingly, work quite well, repurposed from whatever old scraps were found hidden in the attic or basement, tucked away for just such a need. But the crawl spaces and extra rooms are filled to the brim with stuff.

Despite having lived in six states and more than 15 apartments over the last decade, I continue to pack up all my old belongings and move it with me each time like a bloated snail moving slowly under all the weight I'm carrying. I've never thrown anything out, mostly because, well, I was broke. And you never know when you'll need something that you can't afford to purchase.

Perhaps there are deeper reasons why we hang on to our old clutter: inability to let go of something in our past, fear or anxiety about our future. I struggle with both of these issues daily, issues that are most likely also fueling my perceived need to hang on to items I really don't want or need. Everett Bogue wrote a fabulous blog entry about how to destroy your past lives and start over: http://www.farbeyondthestars.com/how-to-destroy-your-past-lives-starting-over/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+FarBeyondTheStars+(Far+Beyond+The+Stars)&utm_content=My+Yahoo

Finally, after stumbling over all the stuff in the back room of our small apartment, not even able to find a walking path, we decided it was time. Time to pare down. I was ready to defy my ancestry, to embrace an existence with fewer chains to my past and to my fears.

I wish I could say that the real reason behind all this was due to two awesome blogs I follow: www.farbeyondthestars.com (by Everett Bogue, as mentioned above) and www.rowdykittens.com (by Tammy Strobel), both of which discuss ways to simplify and declutter, and thus live a more fulfilling, non-materialistic life. While these two blogs were instrumental in allowing me to finally let go of all the unnecessary stuff, the true impetus was Jeff. Specifically, Jeff's growing business that requires precious storage space; also, Jeff's sanity.

We started on a Tuesday. Each day in between jobs, Jeff pawed through his mountain of old magazines and books, papers and pens. I tackled my clutter--old shoes, t-shirts I've had since middle school--after work each day. Saturday night came around. We had planned to walk around Portland, ME and then hit a contra dance in Falmouth. No dice. Cleaning was priority at this point. It looked like a tornado of old junk hit our place, piles halfway to the ceiling of boxes topped with bags. We had hit the final leg of our journey to a decluttered room, our first step towards a decluttered life. Finally, we finished around 10 p.m. after an exhausting week of organizing, cleaning, donating, recycling, throwing out.

What was the final tally?

-Four carloads of old clothes, kitchenware, appliances, shoes, lamps and books donated to Goodwill

-One gigantic box full of novels and DVDs donated to the Dover Public Library

-Three very large bins full of recycled materials--including my old, not-even-functioning-for-years laptop and numerous floppy disks and zip disks!! Why did I hang on to that stuff?!

-A 20-minute backyard fire to incinerate papers that had account numbers on them (seriously, I had BAGS of papers like this sitting in the corner for a year)

-A 19" tube tv and a decent three CD/two cassette (!!!) tape stereo that I haven't used in at least a year or two, given to work acquaintances

-A nice set of winter jacket/pants/rain jacket donated to the homeless guy that hangs out on our street and sleeps in the woods nearby

-Two boxes of clothes and books for my mom and aunt who might be interested; if not, off to Goodwill with these items too


-We traded in the Jeep for a Subaru Outback that week, too--better gas mileage, lower car payments, much better storage options. It's honestly a simpler, better choice for us right now, and while it's not technically considered getting rid of clutter, it's helping us move towards a more streamlined existence.

I willingly admit that I still have more stuff to sort through and downsize: stacks of scrap material for sewing; piles of colored paper for various crafts; containers of curtains not currently being used; boxes of photos I haven't looked at in years. But this was a huge first step for me, one that was long overdue. Once I caught up on sleep and relaxation, it felt liberating to be free of some of the junk. The act of clearing out the clutter makes me think about what else I can do to downsize. I want to do more. I like this feeling. I don't have a strong desire to replace all the clutter with new items. I like having less.

Full disclosure: I did acquire one item during this time period of paring down--a tiny 55-lb. anvil! Right now, it serves as a great conversation piece in our apartment, but it will be right at home when we finally get our own place and set up a small blacksmith shop. And honestly, how often does an anvil come freely across the doorstep of someone who loves the metal arts? This was a tiny step backwards in the journey of paring down, but I'd gladly give away a box full of anything else to keep my new anvil. Priorities, people. Priorities.


My next goal (potentially; do I have the guts to do it?): wear only 33 items for the rest of the year. Check it out: http://www.peaceandprojects.com/blog/2010/10/wearing-only-33-items-for-85-days/

Or check out the original inspiration for this, the Minimalist Fashion Project 333 (33 items worn in 3 months): http://www.bemorewithless.com/2010/minimalist-fashion-project-333-begins/

My list is currently at 55; I have more wardrobe whittling to do.

Have your own story about clearing out the clutter? Were you inspired by someone to simplify and get rid of material items to improve your quality of living? Feel free to let me know how you were motivated!

NOLA

To check out a map of our Delta drive travel route, go here:

http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&source=embed&msa=0&msid=115398075535804411901.000494a2ebf2a94403083&ll=31.334871,-90.043945&spn=9.582333,9.206543&z=6

Our arrival into NOLA went off with a bang, as should be expected when your hotel is located at the corner of Canal and Bourbon Street. Hit and run, mom's rental car was wrecked on the back end. With all the traffic backed up, I actually ran after the woman--who was likely drunk--and verbally berated her while she pretended it didn't happen and refused to look at me through her open window. Mom's nerves were frazzled by the time the police report and calls to the insurance and rental car companies were completed. Time to enjoy drinks in the back courtyard of Napoleon's, a local hotspot in the French Quarter known for their Pimm's Cup: gin, tonic and cucumber, yum! Just what the doctor ordered.

I was attending Sea Grant Week, during which the communicators had a service project--plant Spartina grasses along the edge of Big Lake in NOLA's City Park to reduce shoreline erosion. In most parts of the country, this plant is considered an invasive species, taking over and choking out native vegetation. But down there, it's an important local plant with good root structure to hold the soil in place.

Tools of the trade: you dig a little wedge in the muck, stick the plant roots in and then push the wedge back in the muck nearby to tuck the plant in place.

On the left: the Spartina we just planted sparsely. On the right: Spartina planted one year ago. Check out how quickly it grows in!

Afterward, we ambled around the sculpture garden.

Had an alligator sausage po'boy--"all dressed"--for lunch. A little greasy and chewy, but at the time I was glad I tried it. However, it's pretty horrific hearing about their methods of capturing the alligators for their meat. This was probably the last time I will eat this creature due to intense guilt.

Later that evening, joined up with some friends and checked out a number of local haunts: The Port of Call for a monsoon and baked potato, jazz at the Spotted Cat, beignets at Cafe du Monde (open 24 hours). This city truly never sleeps. Ear plugs are a necessity if you want to catch some shuteye, even at 4 a.m.

Between the conference presentations and forgetting my camera at the hotel, I am lacking photos of the French Quarter. Rest assured, I explored the area for hours, enjoying the music: cajun, zydeco, jazz, blues, folk, even some bluegrass/old time on the streets. Old bookshops, back alleyways, open air markets, window shopping, watching how the locals live.

The garden district of the city is lovely and bursting at the seams with huge, immaculate homes. Kristen and mom drove me out there so we could enjoy a little walk together.

Amazing ironwork!

Gorgeous old cemeteries!

This city is in a beautiful state of permanent decay, enriched with history, steeped in myth, and yet people always think of dirty Bourbon Street, the only place I've ever seen that requires street cleaning--with soap!!--each morning.

Wonder what that's doing to the waterways every day. But if you've smelled Bourbon Street and tried not to step in the mystery liquid puddles, you'll agree that the soap is necessary. But it's never lacking in interesting people and activities.
The Budweiser clydesdales, along with their dalmation, stopped by too.

One last little tidbit: we stumbled upon what seemed to be amateur night at some blues club. Oh man. If you can imagine the intersection of William Shatner and Elvis, you'll arrive at Ready Teddy: The Swamp Daddy. My jaw was actually agape. I am having technical difficulties uploading the videos (they are looooong, which is the problem), so please stand by for a random post sometime later highlighting this dude and his acrobatics!

Delta drive

There's something to be said about getting the lay of the land, to really know and understand the landscape around you. To feel its strengths and weaknesses, to look around and identify how this space fits into the larger context. Not content to simply fly into the city of New Orleans without experiencing its surroundings, I begged for a tour of the the Mississippi delta and the Louisiana bayou.

My travels began in Biloxi, MS, where my sister is still working as an architect to design and build homes for Katrina victims. It's been two years since I was in Biloxi, and in that short time span, it already seems to be progressing. Street lights and road signs are more common, although the public library still uses a trailer. Near the peninsula, there used to be a Vietnamese neighborhood before the hurricane. Today, the land is filled with empty lots overgrown with shrubs and trees repopulating the area. Kristen finds interesting Asian fruits--like pears that have the consistency of apples, and sour cherries--and moth caterpillars resembling the dragon heads of traditional Chinese New Year celebrations.

Driving north, we picked up pecans and the Natchez Trace near Jackson just for a bit. Running from Memphis to Natchez, MS, the Trace is a gorgeous parkway centuries old, where goods were transported over the land prior to the Louisiana Purchase. The Trace has a sordid history of murder and mayhem that I need to read more about. Today, the tupelo and bald cypress swamp boasts alligators if you are lucky (or unlucky, as the case may be). Behold the tree roots pushing up to form knees, knobby protrusions to allow more oxygen uptake in waterlogged lands.
The Mississippi Center for the Arts in Jackson is home to a sweet blacksmith shop. A great design of angled roof, open air to allow nature to take care of removing the soot and smoke.

Downtown Jackson was a film location, likely due to its retro signs. Being one of the poorest states in the nation, I can imagine our positive view of retro signs are different than their thoughts of the decor being simply old and in need of replacement. Time for a greasy breakfast served by the nicest folks you'll meet this side of Alaska.

Mississippi is home to the only eastern petrified forest. Trees from north--as far away as Minnesota, likely--tumbled their way down the river torrents and got jammed up here, buried in sediment, and then preserved similar to the deserts. Organic matter changed very slowly into hardened minerals and the result is wood that looks like rock. You can still count the rings. Also home to a cool mineral museum which included fossils of fish and dinosaur excrement. No joke.

We continued up to Yazoo City, officially hitting the flat expanse of the delta. Still over 100 miles from the Mississippi, but this area flooded before the levies were in place. Pitch black fertile soil, searing hot temperatures and home to the blues.
The catfish capital of the world, Belzoni. Fish all farmed nearby, delicious fried catfish and sweet tea for a late lunch at the old-time pharmacy. It was 90 degrees in mid-October, I've heard the heat index gets up to 140 sometimes. No wonder things move slowly down here.

And of course, cotton fields galore. Remember when we made fun of all those folks stopping to take photos of cows near the road back in PA? Enter Becky, taking photos of cotton fields.

Riverboat casinos on the mighty Mississippi at Vicksburg, a hip little newly restored city. Must spend more time there.

Plenty of adorable armadillos on the Trace near Natchez where we camped.

The poorest state, reminders were everywhere.

In Natchez for breakfast, although we missed the hot air balloon launch that morning. Plenty of rich folks lived in Natchez, this is where old money still exists.

Across the Mississippi into Louisiana, where we met up with miles and miles of oil refineries and sugar cane fields. The landscape was definitely changing.

Plantations, flanked by live oaks in the front, slave quarters in the rear. Harsh reality of living there, will hopefully tour one next time.

Drove over the bayous and into New Orleans, more on that to come.

losing a piece of my past, gaining closure

I don't think everyone understands what it's like to lose your childhood home.

As the situation currently stands, it is every bit of bittersweet. Our family split after many tumultuous years and heartache, and it was finally time to move on. A young Mennonite couple purchased it, hoping for a place full of character with land to raise their two-year-old girl and possibly future additions to their family.

I visited the house earlier this year to say goodbye. I thought I would have a tough time with that visit, but surprisingly I was content with the parting. Today, with the selling of the house, I am having a much more difficult time than I thought I would.

Hearing my mom talk about her conversation with the new couple--where we keep our extra key hidden in the loose rock of the barn, or where to stash the glass Ball jars for canning--caused me to bite back tears.

It is the only home my sister has ever known; it has been my home since age four until a few years ago. Cloud watching near the garden, or impromptu picnics on the hill in early spring, sledding and campfires, warm nights with the sounds of bullfrogs in the pond and the train nearby heard through open windows. Spending time near the barn using a hammer and a small chisel to chip the ground away from rocks, pretending I was a paleontologist digging up a dinosaur bone. Family gatherings at Thanksgiving and backyard badminton, until things got bad.

Picking my way through the woods of ferns, leaf hummus, small beech trees, tall white pines and hemlock, hopping from rock to rock in the stream until I found my favorite--a small boulder rounded off to permit rather comfortable seating arrangements. I used to sit there for hours, writing poetry, listening to the stream dance its way down towards the town of Fleetwood nearby. This place--Willow Stream, our two-acre forest--is the reason I began my career in the natural sciences. I will never see my muse again.

"Did you tell them about the woods on the other side of the stream?" I asked my mom twice, just to be sure. "They need to know about the woods..."

Cape Cod

There is something magical about barrier islands and skinny strips of sand acting as peninsulas. They are continuously changing--fierce gales whip the sands to and fro into peaks and valleys; churning seas pummel the grains until they yield to the ocean's strength, devoured inch by inch, foot by foot. We build on land that is assumed to be permanent, when nothing could be further from the truth in places like Cape Cod. To our credit, our lives are so short in comparison to most geological changes that how could we think otherwise?

Approximate location: bicep of the Cape Cod "arm"; Towns: Brewster and Dennis
Dedication plaque on the bench overlooking the water: "Our happiest days were here. May it be so for you."

Carefree, away from the hustle of traffic outside of Boston. Enjoying the views before nightfall. Towns close up early here.

Breakfast with the locals outside of the Brewster General Store. Time to get the latest town gossip over coffee and muffins. Long church pews set up in a semi-circle outside to accommodate said gossip.

Cape Cod National Seashore. Location: forearm. Impromptu mushroom picking along the bike path!


Sites in Provincetown (Location: fingertip! we've run out of land):

South African food! Pumpkin kibbi, lemon tahini sauce on salad, awesome curried sweet potato fries. Funky digs.

Kettle ponds, freshwater leftovers from melting glaciers! The geek in me LOVES this stuff. Is it fishless, I wonder?

Lovely saltwater taffy at a roadside stand, "made by Cape Codders." Fluffernutter is the best flavor.