no getting away from my self

It's early morning. I wonder if my sister, Jane, isn't also awake and giving herself over to words on the screen. I like to think so. I like to think about companionship at this dark hour with the solitude of words.

I am very behind in writing. The last month has been full of stories and experiences. For whatever reason, I couldn't or didn't bring the energy together to capture any of it. A quick summary:

We departed Warner, NH after closing our home sale on August 15th. The closing was smooth and both Bradford and I felt lighter heading north to Ontario, the open road in front of us, some money in our bank accounts, 2 kayaks and 2 dogs, and friends along the way. An adventure awaited. We were scheduled to return to Warner on September 1st with a rented Uhaul to retrieve our remaining household items and move them to our new home space in Little Compton, RI. (A note of explanation - just prior to closing on our home we were hired as caretakers for the family of friends we have in Rhode Island.)

On the surface, all was well. I was enjoying the freedom of time and space to transition from our life in Warner to the world of experience that awaited us in Little Compton. Underneath, however, my system - my muscles, my breath, my skin and cells felt wound so tight; spring loaded from the number I do on myself when I'm amping up to get things done (like a move and a home closing). Usually, a good road trip is enough to help me unwind some of the tensions I create. In all honesty, these 4 weeks later, I still feel like I'm unwinding.

We spent those two weeks visiting family and friends, mostly in Canada. A few days with my dad and Jean, a few days exploring the 1,000 Island area along the St. Lawrence River, a few days with my mom in her beautiful space on Crowe Lake, a few days on the water in Georgian Bay (where I got to see dear people from my youth), and then a trip through Ithaca, NY to a weekend near Lancaster, PA connecting with Bradford's mom and her husband, George. We saw some beautiful places, many beautiful faces. We had some tremendous food and paddled some gorgeous water.

But still, my body and mind weren't unwinding very well. I was struggling with myself (more tension) to let go and relax, enjoy myself and the freedom to just be. Poor Bradford was stuck for hours in the pickup truck with me. It's compelling to wonder what goes on and why my system is habituated to such tension and stress, why I have such a difficult time simply sinking in and enjoying life. Even now, I sit on a soft couch in the pre-dawn darkness, sipping wonderful coffee with the sounds of waves crashing into my ears from the beach that lies just a short walk from my new home, and I can feel tension in my muscles and breathing. Nothing is stressing me externally. Nothing is challenging my wellness or safety or even my comfort. Nothing is demanding anything from me. But I'm primed like a pump, seemingly unwilling to simply surrender in the goodness of life.

I create all the stress internally. I manufacture this tension as if my very life depends on it. I can feel and see the long history of this tendency. I can see how I've pressurized myself for decades to be on top of things, managing details, controlling my environment, performing. I joked with Bradford yesterday morning, with tears flowing down my cheeks that someone could give $10M dollars, a beautiful space in which to live, the company of loved ones, and no demands and I still wouldn't be able to relax and simply be happy and enjoy myself (though I'm willing to try this experiment).

I look for (and see) problems everywhere. These so-called 'problems' give me something to push up against, something to inform and prove my so-called 'existence'. Even while a part of me wants to let go of my illusory sense of being a separate something, another part of me seems to be rallying all the troops to fight a good fight and find foes everywhere - as soon as there appears to be a problem, there's an ego, a false self who feels infused with substance. The more sense of self I feel, the less peace. No surrender, no joy.

And so, even in paradise there are mosquitoes. And everywhere I go, here I am. The good news… while the tension might feel all-consuming sometimes, the eyes that can see this pattern are clearer. It's getting harder and harder to take myself so seriously. It's a process, after all and there's no need to make another enemy over what's still unwinding, still disappearing.