Tag Archives: space
[ from a. addair who is listening to Bill Evans (The best of Bill Evans Live) ]
It is different this year in Mexico. As I was last year, I am glad for warmth in the winter months and grateful for our friends here. I still relish the brightly painted walls; I admire the practical construction of houses and the scaled-down methods of lifestyle. I feel very lucky to be here.
But I am different than last year. A year full of every-days have rendered me changed. The moments from last February to this one are expressing themselves as a creature who loves to work and misses, with near hysterical pangs, waking up in the morning to paint. A creature who feels a heaving need to be near and available to a small community of family and friends. A creature who has learned that she needs a nest and a small portion of everyday in uninterrupted solitude. A creature who is learning to be open and generous with her resources. And a creature who is shedding frantic busyness for quiet and carefully prioritized commitments.
This creature is me, but I hadn’t known of her evolution until I returned here and measured her against the same winter Mexican sun, the Conejo bus that goes to el centro, and the soft but strong, irregular mountains of Chiapas.
I’m here, acutely aware of my recent and strange pelt, without the comforts and familiarity of home and every twilight brings a stab of melancholy nostalgia.
But I know that I don’t want to be yesteryear’s me or even go home as the me of a few weeks ago. I want my time in Mexico to be accounted for in the expression of this creature who I may not know, once again, in another year’s time.
well, I’m not certain.
And so, I suppose, I will engage with my days while I am here. I think that probably my time in Mexico will be a collection of moments for warmth, for easing into the acknowledgment of my new skin, and resolving to appropriately prioritize when we return. And I imagine the discomfort will find its place in this sketch that has yet to be revealed to me.
Moving always provides space. Space to leave behind the parts of our identities we no longer wish to claim. Space to try (without commentary from well-meaning friends). Space in our schedules. Space in relationships. Space for change.
For all the wilting, yellow leaves transplanting causes, perhaps this space is the reason I persist in re-potting myself.
With the space my newest container has afforded me, I’ve contemplated how I will choose to spend my allotted time on this earth. After giving it some thought, I’m baffled; to quote Brian Moll (http://www.forefrontchurch.com/home), “ This human being thing– I’m just so new to it”. But I’m willing to explore our potential.
To begin this newest experiment, I’ve had to firmly establish my priorities. In deciding, I’ve reflected on experiences that drain my enthusiasm toward life as well as those that fuel it.
Those that take my joy involve enforced routine, menial jobs with poor compensation, and rigid expectations of conformity. I hate these things and will not accept them as facts of life. I don’t wish to live for my weekends and spend forty hours of my week doing something that I don’t believe to be worthwhile. I love my time and energy far too much and care too little for monetary compensation.
Encounters with satisfaction help me to sense that I yearn for authenticity and intimacy to pervade. That I want flexibility to respond to the ever changing needs and celebrations of my family, community, and environment. I crave financial stability enough to supply modest needs, priorities, and generosity. I wish for all things to be inspired and conducted with an ethic of and progress toward justice.
After considering both the life-stealing and -giving experiences in my human career, I hope to align my lifeblood toward this prioritized list: to continue in the pursuit of knowing and being known by Levon, to create art, to have a home in an intentional community, and to learn by travel. This is a simplified list and perhaps I’ll detail each value at another time.
Living life on our own terms takes sacrifice and intentionality. Though I haven’t a clear picture of the specifics, there are some changes Levon and I need to make so that we are more fully engaged with our priorities. I admit that it is unnerving, but I look forward to the effort, wilting leaves and all.