fresh sheets

February 1st, 2020 § 1 comment § permalink

I love it when you come out of a flu or a cold and you strip the bed and put on fresh sheets. I’ve been sweating and shivering through the past few nights, with some awful bug. But today in the afternoon it broke, and I finished a Groundwater lab, wrote up leases for my new tenants, and washed the dishes that had piled up. Tonight, I went to a movie with my sweet partner and another friend of theirs and we ate candy for dinner.

I felt so connected to this day, because for me it was such a before/after time horizon. I find that I live in time intervals where I am measuring each moment in comparison to “this time last year”. Recently it has become more pronounced, because time slowed down this year. My feet felt heaver, and moving felt harder. Did the gravity of the planet change?

Maybe I’m almost in the clear. Maybe I will even be able to write about something other than my own emotional weather soon!

– – –

One year ago today I decided to end my marriage. I woke up in the morning, called my husband and said this is enough. At the time it felt like the hardest thing I would ever do.

Two years ago today, my boat was anchored in the Robeson group of Kuna Yala, and I was traveling to Panama City to meet my parents and tour with them around Gamboa and the Canal Zone.

Three years ago today I was back on Cumberland Island in Georgia, and saw wild horses and sat in the tiny Spanish moss-draped chapel where JFK Jr. married Carolyn Bessette. We had been up and down the whole coast four times by then, plus one time for a job.

Four years ago today I was down in St. Marys, on the GA-FL border, and felt that now-common belly curdle of being surrounded by men in red baseball caps. We were on to refit 2.0.

Five years ago today I working two desk jobs – one in Brunswick and one in Savannah, and before and after work I poked around every nook and cranny on the Georgia coast. 

Six years ago today was my first foggy winter in the lowcountry. We went all that way hand-steering, and were done with refit 1.0.

Seven years ago today, I still had my apartment in Greenpoint, and I was eating Polish food, running NCA, and was goofing around at places like Lorimer House and Enids. We had just bought the boat.

Enids camel

Eight years ago today I was beginning a long distance correspondence with a sailor who lived on a boat thousands of miles away.

Nine years ago today the North Brooklyn Compost Project was in full swing and I was collaborating with Jackie Brookner, who was still with us.

Ten years ago today I was gardening at Bellevue hospital, running the SWIM Coalition, and was about to run for local office.

 

year in rear-view

January 3rd, 2020 § 1 comment § permalink

Last year I took more selfies than in the previous 42 years of my life combined. Just checking out who is there, every day, what is this amalgam of particles at any given moment and how are they/we reflecting light? I wasn’t sure I would come back to this place of wanting to write here, and I had almost chucked it. Then…

About two weeks ago I started writing. Furiously! Like in a fever! Since this came over me I have been pawing at backs of envelopes, half-used legal pads, newly-nested folders on my laptop. If you have seen me in the past two weeks I have most likely asked you for a pen, pencil or paper.

But you haven’t seen me, have you? I haven’t been around. I myself am not privy to my precise location at all times. It is in the looking that one scoots away. Like that old butterscotch candy deep down in your bag, fishing around for it drives it deeper down through the tear in the lining, elusive.

Elusive and a bit sketchy. It has been a year! Everyone is going on about the decade and I am like hey now, can we just pause a bit and digest the year? It was a big bite. Bitter pill, just desserts, and ultimately just what the doctor ordered. Elusive and a bit sketchy.

So what now of me, here, where ever this is? Its time for JUBILEE. If the bags feel too heavy, set them down. If emotions become weapons, trade them for ploughshares. If you’ve been busy counting all the beans, cut it out already and plant them. I’m the one to talk, I’ve spent too long on trying to be seen as right and good. Enough, enough, enough. It matters less what you can give me/what I can give to you, and more what we build here in this time together. Is it peaceful? Is it beautiful? Fun? Does it just generate more transactions or does it build a nest, an ark, a space that grows and holds us all? Is it the ever sketchy and elusive “enough”?

 

ciao bacalao

December 6th, 2018 § 2 comments § permalink

I started this blog in the summer of 2013, when I was making the transition from land to water, coming undone and floating away. It has been awhile because these past months have been consumed by thoughts of return, rooting and rebuilding. On land. Not so planktonic.

I left the boat in October, left Panama, started a new plan. Since then I have been in Florida, Georgia, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts and New York. I spent a week in a Buddhist temple, I participated in a 5-week writing workshop, raked leaves, and shoveled snow. I am seeking out friends and family for conversations, meeting the whole entire children that have been created since the last time we met. Catching up but also remembering who I am in their reflection.

Temple offerings, Kadampa.

Something happened out there on the boat where I lost myself, somehow ran out of me. It is hard to nail down what thats like with a tidy anecdote, I know it is still unfolding.

Neighborhood Print Shop, Braddock PA.

Right now I am in New York City, walking around, researching, writing, archiving, and working. In the next season, I will start on some new path which is still emerging. From the outside looking in, I should probably be freaking out, worried, stressed. But I am somehow feeling very calm, moving slowly but moving forward. I am held and cared for by friends and family – even getting a bit fat.

Wonton Soup.

One thought, a radical outcome from my time on the boat, my one message to you, dear reader, is to consider needing much LESS. When your needs are simple, they can be more simply met. Having your needs met offers freedom from fear. Imagine a version of your life with no fear.

Shell collection, NYC.

Like anyone, I have moments of late night rumination, I go on social media and immediately feel sick with envy. But for some reason – I wish I could see it more clearly, and maybe in time I will – for today, the sense of nourishment and gratitude is just MORE.

Documenting art collection, NYC.

Right now F is out on the boat alone with Beta the cat.  I am watching his dot, and getting to know the experience my parents have had, waiting for news, watching the weather. Shore team.

I am taking a beat and looking back on my time as a planktoneer. I have savored these posts, working on them, sharing them, and returning every once and awhile to remember. But after five years adrift, I am taking root…or becoming sessile? Like a barnacle?

Where Am I?

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