"It doesn't take long for even the most outrageous reality to become 'normal.'"
For most of my life, that sentence would have been the lead-in to a rant against complacency; a challenge to reject an outrageous (and unpalatable) "reality" and work to change things. Today, I see it from a different angle.
It's only been a few weeks since I committed to a course of total upheaval. Only a few weeks, and already this outrageous reality—this complete rejection of what I believed to be normal—is becoming my new normal. I look at an enormous stack of clothes I'm getting rid of (one way or another) and it's normal. I look at the piles of things on my carport ready to be sold and that's normal. I arrange to sell my truck and there's nothing strange about it.
I contemplate starting over—making new connections, finding a place for myself, becoming someone new—and that feels normal, too. Not necessarily comfortable, but "normal."
The same tendency that leads many to accept outrageously wrong things as "normal" (the way many ordinary Germans did during World War II) can also lead one to accept just about anything else, no matter how outrageous, as normal. The difference between "Oh my God!" and "Meh, routine" seems to be nothing more complicated than time.
No one likes change. I believe sincerely, with all my heart, that change is often necessary and often good—I believe with all my heart that this change I'm facing is not just "good" but GOOD—yet I have not always embraced this change, even though I chose it. But by sticking to my guns and persisting when tempted to turn back, I've acclimated. Now this change is becoming my new "normal."
About the time I get acclimated, though, it's all going to change again. What's becoming "normal" right now is a transitional state, from one situation to another. And the situation to which I'm transitioning is itself undefined and unstable. I don't expect my situation to normalize for a while.
What I'm getting at is this: I'm going to be constantly off balance for the next little while. I may feel normal—occasionally, for a time—but what feels normal is going to be transient until my life settles down. I'll always be growing accustomed to newness.
So okay. I'm not normal—I've been saying so for years—for a while, my experience is going to match my nature. I think I can learn to live with that.
And really, what other choice do I have?
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Friday, June 1, 2012
Progress!
Progress! Today's goals:
- clear master bedroom (except bed)
- clear living room
- clear family room
- pack ham radio gear
Yesterday's laundry marathon (continuing into an ultramarathon today) made the master bedroom achievable. The living room and dining room are mostly large furniture; not a lot of stuff that needs sorting or boxing. There's a little of that in the family room, but overall, nothing major. And the carport is already looking like a garage sale.
It seems I've turned the corner emotionally, too. I'm still saddened when I think of who I'm leaving behind, but generally my thoughts are either in the here-and-now ("Live in the now!") or anticipating (with excitement!) what's to come.
So today, clear three rooms and get radio gear ready to ship to Christof (who makes beautiful knives: check them out at Koyote Knives). Tomorrow, probably finish what doesn't get done today.
- Saturday afternoon I'm going to head to Upland, leaving around 2:00 PM, to meet up with some church folk I might not otherwise get to say goodbye to.
- Saturday evening I'll go to my brother's in Fontana; we'll chill and maybe visit some folk in that area.
- Sunday (my brother's birthday) we'll take the Express to Catalina Island for some diving: my last routine Southern California dive.
- Back to Fontana Sunday night to clean dive gear
- Monday afternoon, another tattoo session: the honu and humuhumunukunukuapua`a will be joined by a lau wiliwili
- Monday night or Tuesday morning, back to the grind
It's a busy time, but there is enough time, I think: time to savor what's precious here, and time to accomplish what's needful before leaving.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
A Mountain of Laundry
Why does a single guy with no fashion sense to speak of (and no real interest) have so many clothes?
One of the tasks on my agenda is sorting. Among the things I need to sort are clothes; which to take with me, which to have shipped later, and which to get rid of. No matter in which category the clothes belong, it's a good idea to launder them if they aren't already clean.
I've washed 8 loads of laundry so far, and the mountain doesn't seem to be getting any smaller.
This, friends, it what it means to be a pack rat. I've got clothes I haven't even thought of wearing in three, five, eight years, yet I'm putting them in the washing machine. Insanity.
What a relief it will be to reduce my burden; if I can't reduce my clothing inventory by at least 80%, I'm just not trying.
I've thought for some time now that it would be a good thing to simplify my life; this impending move (and all that goes with it) is forcing my hand.
I'm going to like it.
One of the tasks on my agenda is sorting. Among the things I need to sort are clothes; which to take with me, which to have shipped later, and which to get rid of. No matter in which category the clothes belong, it's a good idea to launder them if they aren't already clean.
I've washed 8 loads of laundry so far, and the mountain doesn't seem to be getting any smaller.
This, friends, it what it means to be a pack rat. I've got clothes I haven't even thought of wearing in three, five, eight years, yet I'm putting them in the washing machine. Insanity.
What a relief it will be to reduce my burden; if I can't reduce my clothing inventory by at least 80%, I'm just not trying.
I've thought for some time now that it would be a good thing to simplify my life; this impending move (and all that goes with it) is forcing my hand.
I'm going to like it.
People First, Then Things
My social calendar is filling up. A beach day with the Berry Bunch, a cuppa with a school chum, a gathering of friends and family...busy, busy, busy.
People are asking for a sliver or a slice of my time before I leave, and they have every right. In fact, I want to spend time with those who are asking. I get a little stressed when I think about the things I still have to get done, but...priorities.
People should always be my first priority. I do have—I have to have—other priorities as well, but those other priorities should not and cannot trump people. I'll get the house cleared, I'll get rid of the things I need to get rid of, I'll get done what I need to get done, but people come first.
I sometimes lose sight of that. The scope of "things" I have to get done sometimes intimidates me, and (because I have this stupid notion that I have to do it all myself) I pay too much attention to it and not enough attention to what really matters. That's coming to an end.
Today is dedicated to getting things at the house to a point where I can use help. I also need to order a new dishwasher and disposer, but that won't take long (nor will getting things to the point where others can help). Oh, and I need to find some heavy-duty shipping cartons; I've got some heavy tube-based ham radio gear I'm selling, and I need to pack it and get a shipping estimate.
People first, then things. People first, then things. People first, then things.
People are asking for a sliver or a slice of my time before I leave, and they have every right. In fact, I want to spend time with those who are asking. I get a little stressed when I think about the things I still have to get done, but...priorities.
People should always be my first priority. I do have—I have to have—other priorities as well, but those other priorities should not and cannot trump people. I'll get the house cleared, I'll get rid of the things I need to get rid of, I'll get done what I need to get done, but people come first.
I sometimes lose sight of that. The scope of "things" I have to get done sometimes intimidates me, and (because I have this stupid notion that I have to do it all myself) I pay too much attention to it and not enough attention to what really matters. That's coming to an end.
Today is dedicated to getting things at the house to a point where I can use help. I also need to order a new dishwasher and disposer, but that won't take long (nor will getting things to the point where others can help). Oh, and I need to find some heavy-duty shipping cartons; I've got some heavy tube-based ham radio gear I'm selling, and I need to pack it and get a shipping estimate.
People first, then things. People first, then things. People first, then things.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Assumptions and Epiphanies
With all the "things" there are to do—packing, getting rid of stuff, arranging shipping—it would be easy to neglect the important things: face time, farewells, people.
It would be easy, but I just can't do it. The important things are... well, they're important; nothing matters as much to me as people.
Because that's true for me, I'm having a hard time (again!) accepting that to some people, I am not among the people who matter. They matter to me; why don't I matter to them?
The problem is my assumptions. I assume that because some people don't talk to me (even when I make the first move!) or don't respond to invitations or don't make time for me, they don't care about me; that I don't matter to them. And that assumption is unjustified.
I absolutely agree that actions speak louder than words. Where I think we (emphatically including me) go wrong is in misunderstanding what actions say. For example, when people don't talk to me or don't respond to invitations or don't make time for me, I've taken that to mean that they don't care about me when what it really means is that they don't talk to me or don't respond to invitations or don't make time for me.
All a person's actions tell me is how people act; it doesn't necessarily say anything about how people feel or what people think.
Am I hurt when people I care about don't talk to me or don't respond to invitations or don't make time for me? I absolutely am. Should I be?
I don't know.
If I'm hurt because I've assumed something that may or may not be so, then no. If I'm hurt because I'm not getting something I want, then maybe.
What I tend to do (and shouldn't do) is judge their hearts by their actions. Actions are all I have to go on, but sometimes actions lie. There's always more to the story than those of us on the outside know.
When I started writing this morning, I thought I was going to write a scathing condemnation of those I love who say they love me, but don't have time for me. Funny how the act of writing has changed my mind.
Bottom line? I shouldn't judge motivations on the basis of actions (or inactions).
It would be easy, but I just can't do it. The important things are... well, they're important; nothing matters as much to me as people.
Because that's true for me, I'm having a hard time (again!) accepting that to some people, I am not among the people who matter. They matter to me; why don't I matter to them?
The problem is my assumptions. I assume that because some people don't talk to me (even when I make the first move!) or don't respond to invitations or don't make time for me, they don't care about me; that I don't matter to them. And that assumption is unjustified.
I absolutely agree that actions speak louder than words. Where I think we (emphatically including me) go wrong is in misunderstanding what actions say. For example, when people don't talk to me or don't respond to invitations or don't make time for me, I've taken that to mean that they don't care about me when what it really means is that they don't talk to me or don't respond to invitations or don't make time for me.
All a person's actions tell me is how people act; it doesn't necessarily say anything about how people feel or what people think.
Am I hurt when people I care about don't talk to me or don't respond to invitations or don't make time for me? I absolutely am. Should I be?
I don't know.
If I'm hurt because I've assumed something that may or may not be so, then no. If I'm hurt because I'm not getting something I want, then maybe.
What I tend to do (and shouldn't do) is judge their hearts by their actions. Actions are all I have to go on, but sometimes actions lie. There's always more to the story than those of us on the outside know.
When I started writing this morning, I thought I was going to write a scathing condemnation of those I love who say they love me, but don't have time for me. Funny how the act of writing has changed my mind.
Bottom line? I shouldn't judge motivations on the basis of actions (or inactions).
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Today
Woke up this morning refreshed. It's a beautiful day outside and not so bad inside, either. Today, I'm feeling it.
Even before I rolled out of bed, I felt good. It isn't that I'm suddenly at peace with everything—that might be nice, but it really isn't characteristic of who I am—rather, it's that I'm okay with not being at peace with everything, with not understanding everything, with not knowing what's going on, with ambiguity, with wonder...
I'm not so okay with the sadness of others, but today I accept how little I can do to alleviate it. Today I understand that I'm only responsible for what I can do and when I've done what I can do, my responsibilities end. I empathize, I freely offer what comfort and support I can, and that's it.
Tomorrow, maybe I'll think I'm Atlas again, carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I hope not—reason tells me it's foolish to take up a burden not mine—but tomorrow will be what it will be. Today, I'm going to accept the gift of feeling good.
One of my high school classmates posted a quote by Albert Camus on his Facebook page this morning:
Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to divert a river; these stables won't clean themselves! (I may not be Atlas, but today I feel like Heracles)
Even before I rolled out of bed, I felt good. It isn't that I'm suddenly at peace with everything—that might be nice, but it really isn't characteristic of who I am—rather, it's that I'm okay with not being at peace with everything, with not understanding everything, with not knowing what's going on, with ambiguity, with wonder...
I'm not so okay with the sadness of others, but today I accept how little I can do to alleviate it. Today I understand that I'm only responsible for what I can do and when I've done what I can do, my responsibilities end. I empathize, I freely offer what comfort and support I can, and that's it.
Tomorrow, maybe I'll think I'm Atlas again, carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I hope not—reason tells me it's foolish to take up a burden not mine—but tomorrow will be what it will be. Today, I'm going to accept the gift of feeling good.
One of my high school classmates posted a quote by Albert Camus on his Facebook page this morning:
"The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion."I like that. I aspire to that. And today...today...I believe it is within my grasp.
Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to divert a river; these stables won't clean themselves! (I may not be Atlas, but today I feel like Heracles)
Monday, May 28, 2012
Fetal Position
Today (Memorial Day) was... interesting.
I got up, 'blogged, reflected on the sacrifices of our war dead, went into town for breakfast and shopping, came back, got some stuff done, had lunch...spent a couple of hours in the fetal position (I don't know why) and now I'm on my way to being fine again.
I really wish I knew why I spent a couple of hours in fetal position. I wasn't moaning, wasn't crying, wasn't distraught... maybe a little depressed, I don't know why (and it didn't feel like my periodic clinical-type depression, so it must have something to do with my situation), but nothing dramatic. I was...resting?
I don't know. I would worry, but I wasn't worried while it was going on and I think I can trust my instincts on this. It's nothing to worry about.
I just wonder, you know? What was going on that made that the appropriate reaction? What brought it on, and what took it off?
I don't know.
Not knowing should, if past history is any guide, have me absolutely climbing the walls, and I'm not doing that, either. I'm strangely at peace with not knowing. Oh I want to know, but it's not causing me any distress that I don't know and don't know how to find out.
I'm chill.
I spent a couple of hours curled up on the couch in fetal position doing nothing, I can't describe with any confidence what I was feeling or why I was there, and I'm chill.
Maybe this is what it's like for a caterpillar in chrysalis, dreaming himself into a butterfly.
I got up, 'blogged, reflected on the sacrifices of our war dead, went into town for breakfast and shopping, came back, got some stuff done, had lunch...spent a couple of hours in the fetal position (I don't know why) and now I'm on my way to being fine again.
I really wish I knew why I spent a couple of hours in fetal position. I wasn't moaning, wasn't crying, wasn't distraught... maybe a little depressed, I don't know why (and it didn't feel like my periodic clinical-type depression, so it must have something to do with my situation), but nothing dramatic. I was...resting?
I don't know. I would worry, but I wasn't worried while it was going on and I think I can trust my instincts on this. It's nothing to worry about.
I just wonder, you know? What was going on that made that the appropriate reaction? What brought it on, and what took it off?
I don't know.
Not knowing should, if past history is any guide, have me absolutely climbing the walls, and I'm not doing that, either. I'm strangely at peace with not knowing. Oh I want to know, but it's not causing me any distress that I don't know and don't know how to find out.
I'm chill.
I spent a couple of hours curled up on the couch in fetal position doing nothing, I can't describe with any confidence what I was feeling or why I was there, and I'm chill.
Maybe this is what it's like for a caterpillar in chrysalis, dreaming himself into a butterfly.
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