The Rise and Fall of Fortune
I confess. It has been 6 months since my last blog post. And what a six months. The fortunes of my heart have been rising and falling with equal vertigo inducement as my financial and creative affairs and at the same time I am full to bursting with gratitude, contentment and a sense of belonging I have not felt in a place and among people in far too long. So the good news is Vermont, even under less than ideal circumstances, was, is and ever shall be home. The really good news is that you have been spared six months of posts following the arc of my hopes and disappointments in just about everything I am doing here.
In every aspect of life, limbo is hell to me. If I were to die and find myself in limbo I will know I was a really really bad person worthy of merciless eternal torment. Bring on the active conflict and challenge, the messier and scarier the better. Give me an opening, an opportunity, a prospect, something to argue, defend, work with, around or through to a happy outcome, to any outcome, just let me roll up my mental and emotional sleeves and have at it. Silence, endless waiting and passive speculation in the void are not my comfort zone. But I have been in that zone more often than not, and way more than I care to be this year.
You do the Math
I won’t even mention money and artmaking. Today it’s about love. One of the themes as I look back on a particularly nasty sequence of false start or outright failed love affairs that has dominated this year was that I was neither being claimed nor rejected by the man in question. The trouble is, some men clam up recede or vanish simply because they are busy and clueless and some because they have already rejected you in their mind and just forgot or are too cowardly to share this information with you, or if they do, do it in an indirect “you do the math” kinda way. As I discovered last year, sometimes the only way to find out your relationship has ended is when your maybe ex, or maybe never was, changes his Facebook status.
Gone for the Day
I suppose the one benefit to being romantically limboed is that at a certain point you stop waiting for your heart to be claimed, like a lost bag in an airport terminal, and you claim the bag yourself. So, here I am as the end of summer approaches, having put up the “gone for the day” sign and slipped out the back door of the claims department to see what exactly is in this heart that no one has any interest in taking home but myself.
First thing I noticed was how easy my heart is to open. It doesn’t even have a lock on it, no complicated closures, and while it looks really well traveled and often repaired, on the whole still strong and flexible. Like you could drop it from a great height and it would bounce back upright, knock it around and it would keep its shape. It looks to have once been dark in color but has lightened up over the years, due to hours sitting in the sun. Some areas are transparent, so you can see exactly what it contains. There are no secret compartments. It is packed neatly with many essential and unique things of neither grand nor negligible value, but there is still room to hold more in some expandable places that have not seen much use but are still functional. As full as it is, it's not heavy at all. Not much to look at, easily overlooked in fact, hence it's being so long stranded in the lost and found, but this heart has gone places, and still has places to go, in the right hands.
So I am bringing it back to the claims department. Because, who knows?
The Trio is Complete
Thanks for reading, whoever is still out there in Blogland. Stay tuned for a new post in sooner than 6 months that deals with some things I actually have reclaimed for myself – my photography and fiber projects! And hey, I guess I am writing again, so the creative trio is complete. And now you can try to figure out which goat is words, which one is images and which one alpaca accessories! Til next time, be well, be kind, be happy.