Little House on the Prairie Goes Post-Modern

Since May I have been living in a cabin on my friend's property. I love this place, it is my home, my nest, my sanctuary. I have no idea how long I will be here but I am grateful for it each and every day (whether I'm here or not - in October I was gone about 23 days in total!). The property (the main house and the cabin) has a deer fencing around a great deal of it which is part of why I have nicknamed it "the compound".

Anyway. It's up the mountain a bit from the center of New Paltz and the temperature up here is always different from town. Though there are other options, I have decided to heat primarily via the wood stove - not that I know anything about maintaining one for heat in the depths of winter. It also occurred to me that I could cook via the stove, since I don't have a cook stove or oven here. About three weeks ago I attempted this just a bit by halving a butternut squash - grown by the gentleman farmer that is my friend. Putting a bit of water in a cast iron pan I put them in, covered with aluminum foil and attempted to "roast" it to use in a soup the next day. Yeah, well the fire didn't stay all that hot overnight. They were partially cooked. Oh well.

Fast forward to today. Picture this if you will:

I am tidying my nest in part because it was FILTHY and in part because I have out of town friends coming over (go me!). After dusting and vacuuming I decide to do this soup thing on the wood stove but I need a shower too. Besides my hair is already wet from dashing out in the rain to cover the hopelessly damp unstacked wood and grab some of the drier stacked, covered wood so I can make soup and keep the house toasty. Well while I'm at it, I thought I'd color my hair for fun. So there I am in black sweats, topless, my hair wet with water and dye, a towel around my neck and back with a pan on the stove heating up while I slice onions. Mind you I am facing a huge picture window that is visible should the kindly landowner wander by on the way to his car. Luckily it's a week day and it's raining so odds are good that he is hard at work in the house. I finish dicing the onions, tend to the fire to try to get the oiled pan is heating, then dash into the shower.

My hair has warm tones, the nest is tidy, the onions, carrots, and mushrooms are sauteed. I have wireless internet, lots of warm blankets for chilly nights. Laura Ingalls never had it so good.

One last burst

Some of the last bit of time at the house in New Paltz I was snowed in, not an unpleasant experience in such a lovely place. In addition I lost cable which meant no television and no internet, plus my cell stopped working. Thank goodness they had a landline. Four days of complete silence from outside sources that usually inundated with via cell, television, the web was a nice reprieve. It seemed timely and fine the way things started to go a bit wrong, or rather not blissfully perfect as they had my last few days, the universe way of saying it was time to move onward.I found myself wanting to arrive in Cleveland with little to no laundry, I wanted to end with as many things tidy as possible, and clean, a fresh slate to start my next phase. Not something I have done before but I liked doing that, as well as making the house especially tidy for my departure and the homeowners arrival.

I appreciate my time there so much. It was much like something I have thought about doing for years, eons really. At various points in time I had the vague urge to go to someplace like the to do a session of silence and reflection, or wondered what it would be like to become a Buddhist monk. When on the cusp of leaving C. and deciding to see where things lead with Her Geekyness, I had a strong urge to leave them both behind, to rent a tiny cottage in the mountains or by the beach somewhere in Northern California, to gain some piece for myself. Fear of so many things kept me from doing this. It took five years but I finally got my personal retreat. The place was beautiful, somewhere I love physically, a place with reasonable creature comforts where I could discover and impose my rhythms. There were things I did not expect to discover while I was there.

Years ago I had read about the notion of the daily pages for The Artist’s Way, but there was no way to know how much I would learn about myself while doing them, how much I love writing them, that I missed real journaling. I like, and crave being neat more than I knew. I have had partners who teased me about my piles, who nagged about how the house looked (like it was all on me!), who knew I could be different than I had been. I had forgotten how tidy I tend to be when on my own, when I like where I am. I can feed myself just fine and even be healthy and not gorge, even though there is no one whose disapproval I perceive lurking around the corner.

Something I had not expected to discover about myself was I am a bit more old fashioned than I thought. In my conversations with BC when she visited I realized that I did not want her to ask me to move in unless she was willing to marry me. By “marry” I don’t mean a wedding per se, or getting a ring as much as I mean that I need to know she is asking me because she is committed to the idea of us, to working on our relationship for the long haul. Perhaps it’s a matter of no longer being in my 20’s or even 30’s, maybe it’s having done this too many times before without enough conversation about what we want, how our relationship will look in other's lives, but I need to know that it’s the whole deal. I don’t want to be asked because it’s convenient, because she is lonely, because she thinks maybe she’d like to build a future. I don’t want to say yes for those reasons. I want us to buy the cow, the barn, the house, and go to town meetings. I want a plan, I want things spelled out, I want to know that will we will review things regularly to tweak them, to improve, to repair something that isn’t working.

Would I turn down a ring or a wedding party? Hell no. But it is more about what follows that I want. I want to have a room of my own where we live, even if it isn’t a full room, but I need a space that is mine to retreat to, that I do not share with anyone, where the desk can grow messy without complaint except my own at which point I will clean it. I want to remember my rhythm in the midst of couplehood, I want it to inform that dyad and I want to know when to back down and listen to their rhythm. I want a healthy pairing. I want it to be the soft spot where I land when I return from being in my space, from my travels, my retreats, from work. I want to be held as I grow. I want to hold as they grow. For us to entwined in some places and reach for our own sunlight in others.