Fluid

It’s raining. A day to take it slow...laundry and grooming, writing and reading. Yesterday I walked for hours, energized by the vibrant autumn air, now and then a gust of yellow leaves, a moody sky crowded with clouds that cast everything in shadow, but then a crack of light, and a pouring forth of sunshine like syrup, and the brooding old buildings fleetingly awash in splendor. 

But being away has made me realize how much I have grown used to the atmosphere I inhabit in my California home, how rare and precious it is, how dear and vital even in the heat and haze, how tangible and present are the foundational elements of the planet, the rocks and soil and trees and essential things trying mightily to grow and to be. 

I am out of my element, I guess. I’m certainly not used to so many people, an endless parade of them, and hundreds of dropped masks lying on the sidewalks, and smashed plastic bottles in the gutters, and the smells of garbage, and I’m anxious. It’s hard not to be. The news is so discouraging. There’s a chronic sense of impending doom, a terrible sadness, a helpless feeling.

My friend Diane is taking a woodworking class. This is the only place where everything makes sense, she says, and I see her point. If you do the work with care, measurements add up, pieces fit, an object is created, something of utility, integrity, or possibly even beauty. “Focus on your grandson,” she advises, and often I find this sufficient. His wonder, his curiosity, the immediacy of his engagement with the world...he is a little guru. An exhausting little guru, but a jovial one, and joy is contagious. I have been laughing a lot, and that feels good.

Sometimes I imagine things I want to happen, and picturing them renders them more likely to become real. But lately, although I sense great changes drawing near, they are formless and mysterious, and beyond my ability to shape them. The ambiguity, though, is oddly comforting. There are so many paths in ambiguity, so many possibilities. I am fluid now, and maybe that’s the last good phase before disappearing. Not passive, not indifferent, not resigned...just sort of accepting, a kind of equanimity. I think I can flow with what fate offers.