Calm in the Chaos

You ever just sat and marveled at how the water going over a waterfall just keeps coming-ostensibly infinite and continuous in supply. I'm feeling like that with all of the things that are going on right now. I'm here in Moscow, Idaho watching my Grandparents go through the process of moving out of their home of 14 years and into Good Samaritan village. I am preparing for my own move- a 4- night, 5 -day cross-country drive in a Uhaul starting in Moscow and ending in Knoxville, TN. And I am attempting to see as many of the wonderful people I am blessed to call friends here in the Northwest before I leave here for the next 4 years. 

Let me just say that my Uncle Dave, Aunt Janeen, Aunt Jeanne, and Dave Dacar (spelling?- sorry Dave) are saints. The amount of time, energy, and real work you all put into getting 489 Paradise Drive looking like it looks right now is phenomenal. I can only imagine all of the boxing up, wiping down, and throwing away that needed to happen. Thank you all sooooooooo much for that. I know that you all know- better than any of us- how much you put into helping Mary Nell and Gordon- but I wanted to just acknowledge how much you all have done to help them with this huge transition. 

Grandma is, as to be expected, quite agitated and stressed out. I imagine that once all of the big moving is done, and they are completely out of the old place and into the new, that she will slowly begin to feel more settled. She, as some of you may know, has again been "experimenting" with her insulin- which we all means that she is not taking her insulin. In a more tense moment yesterday (and after Grandpa in his cute, sweet way asked if I'd put a word in with Grandma)- Granny was directing me as to how to properly steam green beans (and after having ignored such coommands for the better part of the day), she started telling me that I wasn't open to doing things that people told me to do. I pounced. I quite loudly confronted her with the glaring truth that she was also quite unskilled with being told what to do- I think my exact words were: "oh yeah, well how do you do with listening to the things other people tell you what to do? how about you take your damned insulin?" Somewhat unfortunate that I was upset and I more or less yelled at Granny- but she shut up pretty quick and she's actually been more cautious with barking orders at me. 

Anyhow- it's just intense seeing how hard this whole process is for her. Change. Big Change. Change for the better- but change nonetheless.  

My move seems like the yin to their yang. I mean I can fit my whole life into one ten-foot van. How hilarious is that? Actually, even more hilarious for me, has been when I tell people who know me about that I am renting a Uhaul and they say- "you have enough stuff for a Uhaul?"

I know- I only acquired a bed this year. I have two bikes, a drum, and enough clothes to fill half a closet. I think calling myself a minimalist is still a stretch. But the irony is, what with my grandparent's moving, I am getting a couch, a lazy boy chair, two bookshelves, a filing cabinet, and some basic kitchen stuff. It feels both strange and right that I should be getting the stuff that they don't need. 

The funny thing that I seem to be realizing more and more is how much I strangely thrive off this drama. I don't feel like I get sucked into so much as it keeps me feeling like I have something to balance against. It's almost like when there's tons of intense things going on all around, it forces me to be more calm inside. I mean, whatever, clearly I am not immune to getting sucked in and yelling at Grandma. But I do think I that I am finding some strange sense of calm in all this chaos. And, as the boys from Spinal Tap say...

...why not?

Don't Fight It

I learn something simple and profound from Gabriela every day.

I just put her down for nap number two. Nap number two is always the most difficult of the day. I don't know why exactly...but my paradoxical perspective is that she's usually soooo tired during this part of the day that she gets a little bit agitated, she feels the blanket of sleep being laid upon her against her will, and she fights. When she really wants to, she can fight right through even the most exhausted of states. 

Most days, I can get her to fall asleep on my shoulder. However, some days this can take up to a half and hour. She does this thing where she suddenly pops straight up from my shoulder and looks around for something to point at, and equally quickly rests her head back down on my shoulder. She'll then lay there for a few minutes, and just as she's approaching sleep, she'll pop back up like a little gopher. But, usually, eventually, she will slip into slumber. But not always.

These are the days when I feel like I am reminded/taught the most about patience and acceptance. Because I know how exhausted she is, I do everything I can to get her to sleep. This can include everything from singing made- up  lullabyes to removing every possible inaminate distractor from the room to even providing a somewhat strong but cradling hand on the back (to prevent previously mentioned gopher behavior).  But if she doesn't want to sleep...she ain't gonna sleep. And I swear to God that she can sense when I'm frustrated and she fights even harder when I'm frustrated by her not sleeping. 

Don't worry Ali- she's sleeping right now. Actually, ironically, I had to get up about 10 minutes ago to go rub her back, hoping desperately that she'd go back to sleep (which she did). 

She reminds me that I don't get to control her. I am in charge- but not in control. This is quite a profound lesson  coming from a one-year old. She also reminds me how hard it can be to simple accept things. Ok maybe it's a stretch to try to extrapolate this from a one-year old's refusal to sleep. I mean, clearly there's a lot more going on than simple defiance and refusal to accept. But I think there's some truth in it. Hang with me.

So for us larger people, we know we should take a saturday and just relax, we should stop trying to be somebody that we're not, we should stop fighting whatever you may choose to call the underlying force and/or flow of life. Funny thing is, in my observation, is that when I accept things- my own exhaustion, disappoinment, sadness, less than ideal circumstance- it's always better than fighting it. And I imagine that everyone has their own experience with that. For me, acceptance is like stretching- it always feels good and it always reminds me that I don't do it enough. 

I've now been here in Atlanta for a month and a half- and I only have three days left here. It feels like a total blur. Part of that is that there's been a lot more than just the basic duties of nannying going on for me. During these last weeks- I came back from a trip to Mexico, went to New Orleans to follow my heart and a dear woman named Caroline, went to Knoxville for 5 days to get a better feel for my new hometown and to find an apartment. I still feel somewhat bad about the fact that I have brought all this transition and chaos into Phil and Ali's home. But what has become apparent to me is not only how grounded they are and have to be and how Gabriela grounds everybody she meets. 

Gabriela is just beginning to use words to communicate. And though her words aren't always clear (and she doesn't always follow it herself), what she is saying does- 

Don't fight it. 

And don't forget-

pooping is so much fun.

Sorry- that's what I say.

Hit the Nail on the Head

I have for the last half an hour trying to say what Tom Robbins says so much better than I could-

"When we're incomplete, we're always searching for somebody to complete us. When, after a few years or a few months of a relationship, we find that we're still unfulfilled, we blame our partners and take up with somebody more promising. This can go on and on--series polygamy--until we admit that while a partner can add sweet dimensions to our lives, we, each of us, are responsible for our own fulfillment. Nobody else can provide it for us, and to believe otherwise is to delude ourselves dangerously and to program for eventual failure every relationship we enter."

Isn't that right on?

-Isaac "Attempting Brevity" Brandt

Two and a Half Weeks of Summer

My life is cake.

I wake up to the sounds of the cutest one year-old in the world. When I get up, the coffee's already been made. I pick up the cutest on year-old in the world and feed her. Then we go to the park and play. We come back and I put her down for her first nap and watch the Tour de France with the last, yet surprisingly fresh cup still left in the pot. She wakes up an hour and a half later, and then we play, eat, and change diapers until nap number two. After this, we more or less repeat step four (I can't remember which step the play, eat, and change diaper one is). This brings us to 5pmish, when mom and/or dad show up. Like I said- cake. 

Plus Gabriela is THE cutest, funniest little booger. She loves to mimic bird sounds; perform her own headstand version of downward dog; push anything that is moveable; play in the spice drawer for 30 minutes at a time just taking them out of the droor; and fart. The last one is my favorite (big surprise there right?). She also loves to give kisses. Seriously- could it get any more adorable than a one- year old giving you kisses (although this is particularly hilarious as well as she does it with her mouth wide open and tongue sticking out) !? 

This weekend begins my search for an apartment in Knoxville and thus the rapid approaching process of beginning graduate school. And I think I'm writing this more to simply remind myself just how lucky I am to have this little window of time to experience the joyful being that Gabriela is, simply chill out, and do things like watch My Best Friend's Wedding at 3 in the afternoon on a Wednesday (oh yeah- that's right) and watch her wake up on my chest with her little smiling face. What a lucky schmuck I am.

I bought my ticket back to the Northwest for the beginning of my moving process- July 25th. I have two and a half weeks here. I plan on soaking it up. Summer is slipping away like a sunset.

Hope you all are soaking up your summers.

In The Journey

Once again I have stolen a song for my title. I know it's not very creative- but I always like noticing whatever song is playing when I sit down to write (I always listen to Pandora when I write). For those of you who know Martin Sexton, you know this song. It's a classic from Marty.

Damn can that guy sing.

Journey has become such a buzzword. Dude, it's all in the journey. It's been a journey. It's all about the journey. Dude, don't worry about the destination- the journey is the destination. Whoa- now that's deep. All of us know what's being described- I just think it's become an overused word. It's like awesome, or like, or dude (although- clearly I don't have any real beef with those particular words). I think the hard part is- there's not really a lot of other options. What other word can be used to describe "the journey". I guess "process" works. It's not as over-used; it's just sort of clinical. I like the word adventure, but it doesn't really describe the same thing. What the hell am I even talking about?

I'm sitting here on a hot Atlanta early evening thinking about what a journey and process this life can really be. So many things have to come together in such an intricate and delicate way in order for anything to happen in this life. The most basic and obvious example is the complex miracle of conception. Holy poop that's an amazing process when you really think about it (it's a "journey" too- sorry if that was gross). And then, for all of the cellular divisions, growth in the womb, through birth- wow. Maybe this is all coming up because I am nannying for a one year-old and living with a woman, studying to be a midwife (actually I think it has more to do with the fact that I am sleep deprived and only able to remain vertical because of the wonderful bean we call coffee)- but regardless of reason- life is one amazing journey. 

My life as a manny has afforded me a lot of time to think about how to most economically move myself across the country. I have thought about the PODS that seem so convenient and relatively inexpensive (the things the ship to you empty, you pack them up, and they ship them to your front door). I have thought about the good ole moving companies that drive your crap from one place to the next (these places were waaay more expensive than I imagined they'd be). And after pretty much finding nothing that worked with my budget, I checked in with the folks at Uhaul. To my great surprise, they were significantly cheaper (which I'm sure has to do with the fact that I have so little to actually move that I don't really even come close to the minimum weights for most moving companies). 

When planning this move initially, I thought I'd buy a car in Moscow and then drive out with my few earthly possessions on an epic, romantic road trip into the setting sun- destination Knoxville, Tennessee. Turns out that buying a car isn't quite like buying coffee for the week. So I had pretty much given up on the idea of a road trip. But when I saw that I could rent one of those great little orange vans ( presumably with some hilarious picture of a theme park in Florida on one side and a Manta Ray on the other) in Moscow, ID and drop it off in Knoxville, TN- within  a nine-day window- I was all like: "awesome dude" (and I fist pumped- seriously, who am I to be giving the word journey a hard time?). But you know when you inexplicably happen upon a solution to something you were certain would prove unsolvable? And you know how sometimes it comes right after you've given up hope? Ok so I'm a drama queen- but I was really excited that my dream to do a cross country drive was not only alive, but realizable. So there.

Anyhow-I also happen to really like the pace and process of making such a long and significant move in a more gradual and adventurous manner. For travel and vacation- air travel just makes sense. For a big move and transition, I think a mode of transport that allows for some level of processing (i am literally eating my words). Plus, this means that I can stop in on friends and family along the way. My general outline vision is to stop in Montana, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Iowa, before heading off to Tennessee. So if you're one of the people crazy and patient enough to ready this rubbish- know that I will be contacting you soon. If you aren't, don't worry, you are probably better off not reading this- and I will be contacting you soon. 

I haven't been on a multi-day road trip since going to my Minnesota friends' Matt and Kirstens' wedding 4 years ago. And I have never done a road trip solo. I really like the thought of having the days to take in the scenery, listen to music, stop for running/skinny dip breaks- and then staying with friends at night. Should be a nice balance of solitude and shared time with good people. It'll be a journey.

So what the hell was my point? I really don't know. I guess I just wanted to let you all know of my moving plans. Take some time to make my obviously pointless perspective on the word "journey" be known. Mostly I just like knowing that I have a captive audience. Man do I feel sorry for those undergrads who end up in my Psych 101 class next Spring.