Maxfield Parrish “Hilltop Farm, Winter” 1949 – he just ***knows*** winter light so well
[I am loving this new album by Andre 3000]
January.
Today I spent the day watching snow fall, steadily, increasingly fast, then slowing down to a peaceful stop around sunset. I took my dog out for a walk in the half-light; everything was cast in blue and so quiet, as it is after it snows.
This is a new year, one that comes after many hard ones. There has been so much LIFE in these last four or five years. Starting with taking care of my husband’s grandma in the summer of 2019 followed by a global pandemic, Masters degrees, the death of my father, of a dear friend who was more like a brother-father than a friend, and the passing of one of my best friends. Add to the mix, changing jobs, confronting a school system that I found morally injurious, navigating the first few years of marriage to a wonderful guy, getting a sweet little dog, selling our amazing magical house, and moving here to Maine.
Maine is calm and quiet; every night I look out the window at stars (as long as it isn’t cloudy) that hover above the tree line. We have no visible neighbors here, but do hear the sounds of cars passing on the highway. Our house is peaceful and warm and cozy and laid out so well; we each have space to be and to do, and I love the kitchen.
Lately, I have been thinking about my thought processes and where I am in my life. I have been asking myself: am I happy? Will I be happy? Is this happiness? What is this all about, anyway? I have watched so many people that I love go through so much during these pandemic years. We are all changed. But we would be even if there hadn’t been COVID. Perhaps it has helped a lot of us get somewhere? I know it has helped me.
For most of my life I have struggled with staying in one place. My father was a ramblin’ man to be sure; he was a traveler who worked internationally and never wanted to be in one place, I don’t think. I have said many times that I am glad that he had my brother and I, but that he wasn’t really cut out for family life. Even when my brother and I were alive and growing up, it seemed to be painful for him to be with us and be a father who helped our mother with all the things that are necessary for a life in America at the time they were trying it out. When he died, I sat with his body in the hospital and held his hand wondering where he was. I knew that he was somewhere fabulous, somewhere in the world of memory that he lived in. I am sure he was drinking really good booze and eating really good food while wearing a fancy pair of shoes and a glittering wristwatch. He had such good taste in things.
I think I inherited so much from my dad; my temperament, my intelligence, my fear of staying, my fear of disappointing everyone. For many years I was worried that if someone knew my inner persona that they would know I wasn’t worth knowing; poor little girl inherited that from somewhere. It was an idea plucked from the ether of family and history and had/has no bearing on reality. I came to that conclusion after many years of therapy and talking with friends. I don’t think my dad ever felt he could do that. I inherited my anxiety from him, my emotional temper that (luckily) very rarely shows up. With him, he wore it on his sleeve and it was almost ever-present. Last semester, when I was trying to decide to leave a job that was not right for me for so many reasons, I was consumed by worry and I immediately thought of him and wondered if that was why he seemed so angry all the time. I feel relief that my journey with these feelings has been different.
I have realized since starting my new job last week that I do not want a stressful job, maybe ever again. It is wonderful to be in a positive environment where things are easy going and most everyone is happy enough. I go at 7:30 and I come home at 3. The ease of it is helping me process the lingering stressors and confusions that still swirl in my mind; it is also helping me figure out what I want my future to look like.
Choosing stability when one has grown up without it is very challenging; I inherently am distrustful of myself and my decisions, despite how they look from the outside. I can look at myself rationally and say: you have done a very good job in being a grown up. I can look at myself emotionally and say: but it doesn’t feel right (the problem being I don’t know what does). In times like this I am so thankful for my husband and his family and their constancy with each other and their normal behavior with each other and with me. They have showed me what it can be like. So have my friends and their parents.
The snow fell and I was sewing a quilt for my son and meditating on trust. Trusting myself, trusting others, trusting the process, trusting that life will unfold. I was reading a new year meditation today, one of those goofy ones on Instagram that flash by your eyes in an instant but nevertheless make a mark. It asked: what if what you wish for comes true? What if it all works out? My stomach hurts when I think of things this way as there are deep-seated core cells of my body that don’t trust that these things could ever be true, despite all the hard evidence to the contrary. As I was sewing his baby blanket into the back side of his quilt, I thought about how he is in college now, and starting his life, and I remembered when I was his age, starting mine. It was so long ago now: 25 years ago. A quarter of a century ago, I was a baby grown-up.
In Maine right now I am a long-term substitute teacher who makes quilts and who is brainstorming a line of jewelry for 2024. I am helping my friend with an online quilt class she is hosting which is incredible and is using my Masters degree, which makes me happy. I am cooking in a kitchen that is so well set-up for me. I am dreaming in a king-size bed with a dog, two cats, and a sweet husband, who, I am sure, is going through the same wending thought processes as me.
My goals for the year are to stay in the present and to worry less. I hope I can do this, with the help of more therapy, which I just re-started with a therapist I know and trust who I can see in person. I hope to focus on my own creativity and developing my skills at sharing it with others as well as building a career integrating technology with the arts and using the internet as a meaningful teaching avenue for myself and others. I want to keep the slow pace. I want to spend time with friends and let people in to who I am without being so scared all the time. I want to stay grateful and do what I want to do because I want to take advantage of every moment that I have on this beautiful earth. So many times I think Mary Ann is sitting in the back seat of my car as I drive around, or is standing behind me when I am doing something. Sometimes I feel her poking me gently in the right shoulder blade, reminding me to BE ALIVE, BE ALIVE, BE ALIVE!
Everything is brand new, and yet familiar. Happy New Year.
Maxfield Parrish, “Birches in Winter”, 1946