The Enigma of Time

Time has a way of continuing to move on. It doesn't matter if we are moving with it, or if we are watching it go past from our easy chair. 

When I am in Florida, as I am now, time has a different quality to it than it does back in Vermont. Despite being here for several months, there is something of "vacation" about my time here. I struggle against this, by transporting my kombucha scoby and sourdough starter 1,434 miles, and making meals from scratch, despite the prevalence of dining options within walking distance once I arrive. I walk every day as I do back home, but here I have the luxury of choosing to walk on a beach or a palm-shaded path. I read the news and do the New York Times puzzles, but when I glance up and away from the screen, the inland waterway is glistening right in front of me, boats lazily making their way out to the sea for the day, and, just beyond them, the golf course stretches as far as I can see.

Florida wants to teach me how to slow down. It wants me to notice the beauty of a white bird foraging for bugs, a manatee swimming by, flowers in full bloom despite winter's chill, lizards darting across my path when I least expect them. I want to comply, I really do, and I think there is a part of me that might be starting to let time to flow by me or through me, but there is a greater part of me that still wrestles with it. There is something within me that assumes it is important to create meaning in every moment. There is a part of me that wants to prove I have achieved something with each day granted. 

I imagine that someday I will discover that there is a balance between the two, a balance between achieving and learning how to appreciate and embrace the beauty of each moment. Maybe this is the year I will take the lesson to heart.

So Much Space: An Exercise in Trust

 

So much space

expanses of time

breathing room, for sure

but for what?

Leaving work life

I imagined

opportunities 

unfurling at my feet

showing themselves

in splendor and possibility.

I find myself 

weighing the choices

looking far down each path

but more unsure than Frost

which one is for me

where my destiny lay

that "one wild"

and don't forget, 

"precious" life

I long for

and imagined

was searching for me.

Now,

here I stand

arms open

expectant

heart welcoming

daring to hope

seeking a glimpse

of what may come

into this space

that is my life

Beach Cleaning as a Heart Practice

MacArthur State Park is one of our favorite beaches to spend time at while we are in Florida. There is an estuary to explore in kayaks, where we see all kinds of birds flying overhead or hidden in the mangroves around the shoreline. There is a boardwalk across the estuary, and finally, an expansive sandy beach where we can sit or walk for hours undisturbed. 

Storms can alter the shape and scale of beaches overnight, and one day we were shocked to see MacArthur Beach littered with all kinds of debris thanks to an overnight storm. The wind was still blowing when my daughters and I walked down to take a closer look. We saw the remains of someone's freshly built dock - the wooden planks and stairs, although scattered many feet apart, were still raw and freshly treated. A small boat, mostly made of foam and plastic, lay half buried in the sand. We sat for a while on a piece of lumber, and watched the crashing waves as the wind continued to blow strong and steady.

It was too windy to sit for long that day, but the next Gary and I returned and picked up a bucket and trash grabber that were stacked near the entrance to the beach. Walking up the beach that day we each collected a bucket full of plastic bottle caps, bags and fragments well on their way to becoming microplastics that cause so much harm in the worlds oceans. There were ropes and sharp bits of glass and wood, as well as a syringe that definitely gave me pause, walking barefoot as I usually do when I am there.

Since that day, when we go to the beach I often grab a bucket and add litter pick up to my relaxing beach walks. This practice helps me to feel that I am contributing in a positive way to keeping the environment I care about in better shape. It also slows me down. 

I am a person who has spent most of her life hurrying from one place or activity to another, taking very little time to reflect or pause between. How ironic that something that feeds into my need to keep myself occupied and feeling like I am accomplishing something worthwhile is also teaching me about the value of its opposite! It is important to learn how to simply BE, how to slow down to the speed of life. I know this intellectually, but find it difficult to actually practice it. Now, thanks to my desire to contribute by picking up litter, I am reaping the benefit of actually taking time to notice my surroundings, down to the smallest fragment of plastic or shell or seaweed or stone.

The discernment process of determining the difference between trash and treasure is serving me well as I allow myself the time to discern what is next in my life. I am not very patient, least of all with myself, but this is helping, and it enables me to do some good while I wait.

 

NaNoWriMo

NaNoWriMo is short for National Novel Writing Month, which takes place in November each year. The challenge is to write 50,000 words in the course of one month. This works out to 1,667 words per day for each of November's 30 days. 

At first I didn't really think NaNoWriMo had anything to do with me. I am not a novelist, for starters, but the folks who organize the event are great at making everyone who likes to write in any form feel welcome. They even held a virtual memoir writing camp this summer, which I did not attend, but the idea of it brought home the thought that I could participate this November and write whatever my heart drew me toward. So I did.

I have been wanting to write my memoir for at least 25 years, and I have managed to jot down ideas and even entire essays over the course of that time. However, this all felt disjointed. There was no clear flow to the writing, no underlying theme. I was not sure how to organize my memories and the stories that accompany them into some kind of coherent whole. 

When this year's NaNoWriMo approached, I decided that I would use the month as a springboard for the project. My intention was to focus on a different memory each day, beginning with my earliest ones and going as far as the thirty days would take me. I knew I needed a theme, and after trying and discarding several possible concepts, I settled on "Connections". I figured that this could reflect my connections with Spirit, with the natural world, with family, with friends, with myself, even. It seemed broad enough as well as specific enough to work as a framework on which to build.

November is over, and with it the challenge that I accepted of writing 50,000 words, a day at a time. I am happy to report that I did it! Some days in particular were difficult for me to take time out for writing. Thanksgiving, with its attendant activities of cooking, celebrating with friends and family, travel, etcetera, features in there. And it comes close to the home stretch, so that puts a bit of pressure on, to keep up your word count so you don't have a word mountain to climb during the last few days.

As a way of celebrating the fact that I successfully rose to the challenge, I decided to print out my month's worth of words. They totaled 50,212 words, and filled up 204 pages. Carefully wrapping the pages to protect them from the rain and from being jostled into chaos, I brought them to Staples and had them bound. Mostly I did this to see what it looked like, and how it felt to have something physical to
show for my efforts. Even though I know it is a draft, and a rough one at that, it surprised me how good it feels to hold that book in my hands. 

All of this reminded me of how important it is to just get started on whatever it is that your heart is calling you to do. I am hopeful that this message will continue to draw me forward into the life I imagine.

Retired!

This is the first day of my retired life. It is pretty exciting to finally take the step I have been contemplating for awhile now! In The Summer Day poet Mary Oliver asks, "What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" This question has been haunting me. I feel that there is something inside of me that wants to come out, but I don't know what it is. I sense that it needs me to create time and space where it will feel welcomed and safe, where it can stretch its wings a bit and let them dry before attempting to take flight. 

Karen Walrond, author of The Lightmaker's Manifesto, in conversation with Brene Brown, said it is important to create space in your life, to not just get restless, but to get bored! As I listened to their conversation I started to recognize that I am very familiar with getting restless when I take time off from the normal routines of my life, and that my restlessness usually pushes me to get active again pretty darn quickly. It is rare that I allow myself the freedom to actually get bored. Even on vacation, I often bring along a pile of books I plan to read, or work on some writing. I was nervous about retiring and leaving behind a job that was meaningful to me, one through which I felt I was contributing to the community in a positive way. Sure ministry can be anxiety producing, but it also has aspects that are deeply fulfilling and rewarding. Still, after 39 years of parish ministry, I knew it was time. It was time for me to prioritize this other calling that kept tugging at me, the one that Mary Oliver's words reminded me of.

One of my favorite places in the world is an island off the coast of Maine where my husband and I have been going for eight years now, often twice a year. When people ask me what I will do there, my usual response is "I will hike the trails and sit by the sea watching the waves, the seals and the birds." And that is what I do, I sit for extraordinarily long periods of time observing and even becoming a part of the scenery. I realized that this is what I need to do now. I need to simply be present where I am, letting the peace of the place (no matter where I find myself) settle into my bones.

Eventually, whatever is next will start to show itself, but until then I will be trying to get comfortable with any restlessness that emerges. Until then, I will keep breathing deeply, practicing those meditative techniques and prayerful approaches to life that have anchored me through the years. I will be waiting for boredom to take hold, and, hopefully, welcoming it as a true gift.