The day after Christmas there’s this cosmic exhale. It’s like a switch flips from the hysteria of the holidays to thinking about the New Year to come and cleaning up the mess of the old. It’s the time of not doing, not shopping, not cooking, and not decorating. It’s a time of regrouping. It’s a good time to read, reflect, and rest.
Austin Kleon calls it Dead Week. I prefer to call it the Pause, the little grace period between old and new. So as I pause, I wish all my readers, the ones I know and the ones I’ve yet to meet…
Last week I had the honor of reading my prose piece, “TheOrchard by My House is Gone” at the book release celebration of Paper Gardens the annual literary journal of Yamhill County, Oregon. I was joined by other local authors that had their work published along with family members and members of the community. The most memorable part of the evening was when adults shared the stage with writers of all ages including those as young as second grade. We were all writers in different stages of our journeys who took the risk to submit our work to be judged and perhaps rejected.
A close friend asked to see my entry and I emailed it to her. She read it and then responded that how much she appreciated me sharing my work with her. Doing so gave her a window into my life and how I view the world. She remarked in her email that a long-ago friend was a painter but would not allow anyone else to view her work and that “would potentially impact the way she felt about her art.” I also have an acquaintance that ceased painting her stunning watercolors as she never sold them at the one event where she exhibited. Paintings are especially challenging to sell as it’s not only if a person likes the piece, it has to fit and match one’s décor.
I find both these situations very sad. We are always under the scrutiny of others- the way we think, dress, or otherwise live our lives. I don’t make art for economic gain anymore. What is imperative is that my creativity provides a spark to my life, joy in the process of its creation, and serves as an avenue for self-expression. There lies the attitude of non-attachment. There will be some that don’t care for what I write or create, yet there will be others who resonate with it. It’s not a deal-breaker as I am out to please myself. It is the nature of bringing creation to the world to see. If I am pleased with my work and it is well-executed, that is enough. It’s like hiking. I go out and have a beautiful day among nature and if I see wildlife, so much the better.
Behind the fabulous raft trip in my previous post was my knee injury I had sustained last spring on a hike by twisting my ankle on a rock. The “no big deal” turned into months of pain.
My orthopedic surgeon told me not to go.”I’m going “ I told him. He looked at me sternly and said “be sure you have someone help you in and out of the raft.” No worries. In my mind, my knee was already shot. Why stay home and be depressed while missing a trip of a lifetime. Plus, it’s hard to injure yourself by watching the scenery go by in a raft. Yes, there was that white water kayaking but I am experienced and the guides took care of all the camp chores. No regrets. ( I did purchase that Life Flight insurance beforehand, though.)
The MRI results came in after the trip- worse than I thought. I had a stress fracture in the head of my femur and a fully torn medial meniscus in my left knee. My doctor said he didn’t think he could do anything for me. WHAT? “Stay off of it for four months and see me after the first of the year.” Now I had already been severely impacted for months and this news was devastating. I thought I’d have laparoscopic surgery and then presto!-be good as new.
Having a serious injury or illness is a humbling experience. One day you’re fine and the next your life is turned upside down and full of pain. Walks are a thing of the past. Daily chores seem monumental. Currently, I’m hobbling around on crutches hoping that the new doctor I will see soon is more creative and compassionate than my former one.
I’ve had numerous traumas in my life – “black holes” I call them, fraught with frightening unknowns. This qualifies as one. Will I get my life back anytime soon? To get out of black holes it helps me to use a whitewater kayaking analogy. It’s the same skillset I use in a big rapid but it also works to keep me from psychologically tipping over.
Gather my confidence.
Have on all my safety gear but rather than a helmet, floatation vest, first-aid kit, and a rope bring along friends and family, a journal, meditation, and spirituality.
Research the river ahead of time – research the condition. Don’t rely on the medical profession to explain everything..
Keep up my momentum – my boat is more stable than I think.
Go with the flow.
If I tip over, hang onto my boat and paddle, find an eddy, and rest before getting back in. It’s hard to be up all the time.
I spent several years working and exploring in remote corners of Alaska as a young woman. This required transportation in floatplanes and small boats to rocky shores, arctic lakes, meandering rivers
and remote airstrips. The weather played an important part in determining departure and pickup times. It seemed that the pickups were often the most delayed. Maybe that’s because it was the end of a trip when I was tired, cold, and desperately in need of a shower and my own bed.
By Alanna Pass 