October 31, 2010

"They say when things start to fall together naturally, you're on the right path."

I said, here, a long time ago, that poets are necessary for simultaneously expanding and contracting an event.  I feel my life simultaneously expanding and contracting and there ain't been no poets around to write it all down for me.  The idea of family and right living have been on my mind.  (Aren't they always?)  More than on my mind, these ideas have been in play.  Let's just say they've been in play.

Who is family?  Them what love you for real.  What is real love?  Hard questions to answer.

We spent a long weekend up in The Blue Ridge at the purple house, which is starting to feel like a personal retreat.  And its free.  How did this happen?  We went to Tweetsie's Ghost Train on a cold full moon lit night.  (Full Double Rainbow!)  It was beautiful and too scary for the kids.  But the Trick or Treating was fine.

The next day we spent with The Lockes.  The day was so beautiful, full, and compact, its hard for me to put it all in words.  In the space of a day Henry was wanting to call Norman, Grandpa.   We were just enfolded in their love.   They behaved and loved like Grandparents might. It was emotionally stunning.  And delicious.  We came home full on every level.  Also, we went to the farmers market, bought pumpkins and honey.  We picked up (with our hands, off the tree) over a bushel of apples.  We shared three meals, if you consider the fresh bread, goats cheese, and wassel at the market breakfast.  Since it was 8:30, I say it counts.  Three meals, ATV rides, hikes, reading, lounging, being regaled with family stories, porch swinging, babbling brook dabbling, puppy loving, butter fetching, dish washing, normal daily loving, family time.  Such love!  When Jackson decided to run the holler, for 6 hours longer than we planned to spend on the mountain that last day, no one could blame him.  It was hard to leave.

At home we are putting up the goat fence and I'm fairly settled on some local nubains from the farm where my friend used to work.   (Check out her way totally excellent blog.)  Soon we should be milking again.  Which is a huge relief.  The longer we do it, the more committed I am to producing as much of our own food as we can.  Its not a small idea and its a lot of work, but very gratifying.

Ry is in a new art class.  They are studying the tile work of Islamic cities.  Henry is making big progress on his guitar.   We still hit the library once a week or so.  In fact, now that Ry's in a weekly class in town, I drop one kid in one place, another kid in another place, and I go run errands.  Its all perfectly legal and natural.  How amazing is that?   We are all at work in busy town, gainfully employed, independent, and free.  So amazing.

Did I say Trick or Treating?  We spent yesterday on a mission with a wild woman searching for the heart of Halloween.  We found many things, tangential and beautiful, along the way.  But we also found MORE Trick or Treating.  That was accidental.  And, of course, the kids will be Trick or Treating tonight, for reals.  So, count 'em.  Trick or Treating THREE TIMES IN ONE YEAR?  Unprecedented and outrageous.  What's a mother to do?  Roll with it.  We did a haunted house lite.  We hit Fearrington for their evening pumpkin promenade.  We were taken to a backwoods, unadvertised, secret, amazingly elaborate Halloween house display.  We were fed green chili stew.  (ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!)  And our host makes, among a thousand other things, Native American Flutes.  Guess what Riley's been aching to do?  Thank you, Universe!
Tonight we return to the traditional hay riding country Trick or Treating of yore, with old friends, home wrought costumes, and cold noses.   But sheesh, three times in one year.  Seriously?

Also, we're attending a church now.  There, I said it.  BOO!  Just in time for Halloween, a scare.  Actually, I find organized religion enormously scary.  And I'm not a Christian.  And I thought I don't believe in church.  It turns out, I very much do believe in this church.  Its weighty.  It feels right.  Everything about all of it is working for me.  And things seem to be falling into place.   In a way I'm not adequate to describe.  But since we moved home from Texas, life has been suckitudinally hard.  I'm ready for some falling into place.  Place is elusive, actually, and perhaps the only way to get there is to fall.  I'll side step biblical reference here, since I don't teach the bible and am not exactly a fan.  But I am willing to do some letting go and some falling into place.  And some finding higher love.  And some connecting of old circles.   Some discerning, quieting, listening inward.  Expanding and contracting all at once, just in time for the feast of winter holidays.

Let the wild rumpus begin!

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I so love it when everything falls into place and we feel like we are "home." How exciting for you. The universe has her way of making sure all of our needs are met; she always provides. It is awesome that you are connected to that - that you recognize it. xo -Debbie