Seriously.
March 21st is supposed to the vernal equinox: the beginning of spring- the coming of light, warmth, growth. Well, ok, maybe it's fantastical and ridiculous to expect my desire for the cold and wetness of winter to simply disappear on command. Still, it'd be nice. It's snowing right now.
Truth be told, when Dave and Janeen visited this weekend, Janeen said something to the effect of wanting winter to last a bit longer; saying something like she wasn't done with the inward path that winter pushes us down. And as much as it would be nice to have Mother Nature flip the switch- the gradual, unpredictable, and messy transition of winter to spring has been what I need. With so many transitions happening so abruptly in my life- it feels like Mother is somehow in tune with my need to simply slow shit down and keep perspective.
I've been thinking a lot about transition. What is it to transition? How does one transition with grace? How can I find away to appreciate the process and not simply be annoyed by the uncertainty of it all? Why have I pretty much sucked ass at transitions so far in my life? How much of the chaos and unsettledness that I experience with transition do I myself create? What can I learn from my previous experiences so that I can master the art of transition (instead of getting my ass kicked by it!)?
Seriously though- as I look back on the last 6 years of my life- I have gathered some serious experience with transitions. I moved from Tacoma, WA to Kathmandu, Nepal. I moved from Kathmandu, Nepal to Tacoma, WA. I moved from Tacoma, WA to Seattle, WA. I moved from Seattle, WA to New Orleans, LA. I moved from New Orleans, LA to Seattle, WA. I moved from Seattle, WA to Bozeman, MT. I moved from Bozeman, MT to Moscow, ID. And now I'm getting ready to move from Moscow, ID to Oaxaca City, Mexico (and then from Mexico to Atlanta, Georgia for the summer before moving to wherever I end up for grad school). If last 6 years of my life were a movie it'd be titled: "Lost in Transition". Seriously though- when I look at that list- it gives me some perspective on why I honestly feel so relieved about sinking myself into the earth in one spot, doing one thing, for the next 5 years. As Grandma would say in her high pitched, Wisconson-accent: "Heaven!"
I can hear you all already: "What's your point Brandt?" I'm getting there- just hang in there with me. I guess that the things I notice about this next transition in my life that make it feel so different from all the others, is that I have a specific destination and a focused purpose. Well, at least a focused purpose. I'll have the destination in two weeks. But what I also notice is that even though I'm so excited and relieved to be heading in a real purposeful direction, it's still stressful. It's almost like because I feel like such a spoiled little shit for all of the opportunity, privilege, and generally ridiculously ease with which I have been able to live, that I don't feel like I should let myself get stressed. I think of a John Steinbeck quote that has always stuck with me: "Change is always difficult. Especially change for the better." I think that on a national and global level we see this clearly through the example of Barack Obama and all of the obstacles and resistance he has faced in such a short time. Alright- what the hell was my point?
What I have noticed helps me in transition (aside from the obvious psychotropic and mood elevating drugs available in college towns across the world- just kidding mom) is exactly what I have lived these last months here in Moscow- rigid regularity. I still marvel at how regular Grandpa and Granma keep their lives. From eating at exactly 5:30pm to previously mentioned pooping patterns- they keep it regular. With everything else really and truly up in the air- it's super important for me to go for my usual run, come here to the cafe for my typical typing session, and, yes, to sell shoes at Tristate.
I'm running out of steam.
Anyhow- all this transition has me so emotional which has made things both great and difficult at 489 Paradise Dr. Some mornings just seeing Granny makes me so sad. She just looks so old and tired sometimes. And then others, like this morning, she's so lovely to be with. This morning we chatted about the houses she grew up in and then she broke down about just wanting her tired old body to die. Then, of course, two seconds later she's on to a different subject (this morning it was flowers outside). She's so funny.
Gramps and I went and got what presumably will be our last load of wood together. We have gotten so efficient with our little pitch and catch system that I think we both set a time and quantity record. This has been another little routine that I grown to love. Between getting wood and watching basketball- our time together always includes Granny. So it's nice to just be together- just the two of us.
The other thing I think I'm getting better at in all the ostensible chaos is to simply follow the flow of things. In the past, when the chaotic nature of transition sets in (which is, of course, its own interesting illusion), I've felt freaked out by it. Again, I think this has historically been true for me because there's was no sense of foundation at all- so I experienced everything as chaos. Now, it's more like there's a storm blowing in, but I've already got a fire going and enough food cooked up to last for a long time- I'm actually looking forward to experiencing the storm.
It's snowing outside.
I'm smiling inside.
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