I was starting to answer Peter and Erin's comments on this post and realized my comment was becoming another post. Here's it is:
Okay, your mutual point is well taken. Small isn't insignificant (even if it is accurate). I guess I'm just looking out at those people who are working full time, or who are raising kids, or are driving somewhere every day, or who have been diving into experiences like travelling and buying all kinds of new technonology (while I, ipod-less, listen to cassettes in my 11 year old car) or who are going to movies and restaurants and cultural events of various sorts, and some people are doing all those things simultaneously and I find myself in awe.
Barbara Barrows and I were laughing about it, how we can't multitask at all anymore and how lame our days can sound to people who are living a more externally active existence. She said telling someone, in answer to a question about what she's been up to that "I'm changing my world view. Oh, and I wrote a poem about a chicken" just doesn't seem to get conversations moving. Of course, depends on who you say it to, but still, I could relate.
We talked about her snapping turtle poem and how the big event of that day was seeing a dead turtle on the road when for most people the drive to work is actually the incidental activity of the day, a mere bridge between the legitimate activities one engages in.
That being said, to your points, and in fairness, there are people who completely understand that sometimes the drive is the thing (life is a journey, etc etc), and who appreciate the poet's sensitivities (and sensibilities). And then again, a lot of people are just trying to manage basic life activities like getting groceries and planning a work presentation and trying to cut the lawn before the neighbors start picketing and helping their kid with ADD finish their math homework and maybe they see living a life in which the big event of the day is cleaning a closet and writing 3 pages as "nothing". Or, if not exactly "nothing" then at least kind of "soft". (My farmer uncle has very clearly indicated that he thinks I live in an "airy fairy" world and will some day have a rude awakening when I have to face the "real" world. He said this while I was caring for my dying father, so I'm not sure what he thought I was avoiding in life, but still, he thinks my life is ridiculous.)
And it isn't that I feel my life is insignificant or too soft or small, or that I feel defensive about it (even when I'm talking to my uncle, whose perspective I certainly appreciate). My life is how I created it. Kids never would have fit into this life for me. Living in an urban environment would not have fit. Playing video games doesn't fit. Nor does drinking pop or buying a new car when the old one still runs. Being a caregiver did fit. Having an acre of barely tamed yard fits. Thinking over a poem while washing dishes fits. Listening to Ram Dass tapes while ironing does too.
I think a lot of people would find my life extremely boring, honestly. On the other hand, I saw two mallards walking down the middle of my street this morning (having walked up my driveway from the marsh) so maybe there are some people who would love to be able to say the same and look wistfully toward my existence. In the end, it's nothing to judge. It's just that I know my life would drive some people as crazy as their lives would drive me, so I want people to know I'm not recommending my life to them.
For those who felt my life was in more alignment with theirs in the past, I just wanted to acknowledge that it may not be anymore and may never be again. Back when I was more 'monkey with a gun' like, I think people watched to see what crazy thing was being cooked up when I would have an online hiatus because I always came back with some big burst of something. This is different. It's not a hiatus, it really is a shift to a different kind of life.
Maybe what I do want to advocate for people is alignment. The more into alignment I bring my life with what I value and who I am and what I am sensitive to and fed by and what brings out the best in me, the better I feel and the better able I am to meet the world in a positive, open way. I meet it less often, but the quality is higher. That's good for everyone. Somedays my big trip is to the post office, but I love my post office clerks and it's become like a social thing for me when I go there. I like having a life where my post office feels like the set of Cheers. I know that most people don't have that kind of relationship with their post office (if they even go in to the post office anymore, since you can do it all online these days).
So, I feel a bit like I'm going against the flow of society. It's like Kay Ryan's Backward Miracle. I feel like most of the world is at this huge buffet and sampling so many wonderful foods while I have a piece of toast with olive oil and salt on it for breakfast (which I do, with tomato if I can find a good one). The thing is, I see people eating while driving and they may eat more variety in a week, or even a day, than I do, but I know I taste that toast and I don't know if that's true of the guy eating the breakfast burrito on the highway.
So, the acts and external scope of my life are small but the awareness is big. When I let life creep up in scope, I have a hard time sustaining the awareness and appreciation so I keep scaling back.
Who wrote about the monastery and how their downfall was having too many cereal choices in the morning? I can't remember who wrote about that, but I had to laugh because it's so true. Sometimes I think I may have set myself up to have very little money just to avoid that very problem.
Bernie Siegel talks about what permissions diseases grant people, like being able to say no, take better care of themselves, or take more time for 'the little things'. I feel really grateful that it didn't take a disease to give me that permission. Just a few deaths and a career that fizzled out on me. (lol)
Since it wasn't a disease that lead to my lifestyle changes I faced a bit of a dilemma this past year. I think you can use "well, I'm a cancer survivor" longer than you can use "my Dad died" and certainly longer than "my good friend who was suffering for a few decades died" if you find yourself in need of permissions like that to choose a new way of living. So, with this sense of an expiration date on my permissions (like I had a temporary visa to visit "Airy Fairy Land" but didn't qualify for a green card), I was feeling a little pressure to get back in the saddle after my deeper grieving was waning.
I just couldn't remember which horse I was supposed to put the saddle on.
And none of the horses seemed to want to be saddled so they kind of kept their heads busy with sniffing alfalfa, pretending not to notice me.
So I sat in the field watching them and took some photos and started to write.
And strangely enough, in that field there is not a gun or a monkey to be seen.
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