This adulting nonsense is so hard, sometimes! Most particularly the part where I find myself having to balance long-term and short-term needs, or just generally sort out wants from needs, develop new perspective on old situations, or balance the whimsical with the practical. So hard. Still, not learning and doing these things, while certainly among the many options available, seems to hold the greatest promise of huge disappointments later on. So, I practice, I learn, I grow – I continue to adult, with varying levels of skill.

The house-hunt is a case in point. I just haven’t been getting far looking at tiny fixers. Some of them have been quite cute. Several of them would definitely meet most of my needs for long-term housing, and would satisfy the shorter-term (more urgent-seeming) desire to move from the place I am in right now. Fucking hell – there’s more to it than swiping my card, regardless of whether or not I have pre-approval in hand. Irksome. There are criteria to be met with a VA loan. There is the ever-present reality of a “seller’s market” in an industry quite willing to refrain from the sort of economic regulation and clear process requirements that might cut into anyone’s ability to drive commissions higher (through higher prices generated by aggressive bidding among home-seekers, encouraged by realtors). Frustrating. I just want somewhere to call home. Coming to terms with one element of my dissatisfaction (specifically that I don’t actually want to live in a crowded residential suburb with an ugly commute) turns my attention to the beauties of rural living… and… the scarcity of land. Damn it. LOL I look at page after page of listings of parcels of land in my state… I’m sort of limited, though, to the region commutably close (by car) to my job, right? Yeah. So is everyone else, and most of the jobs in the state… right here in this area. Plenty of big lovely parcels of remote unimproved land out there, though… if I thought I could do a 10 or 12 hour commute I’d be in good shape. “Remote” has various magnitudes of meaning, but none of those mean “convenient to the office”. lol Well shit, at least I am still laughing.

For a moment this morning I wanted to sit down and write “Dear Universe, please send land I can afford, I’ll manage the rest. I’ve been very good this year” and hope for the best. πŸ™‚ Sometimes there is a lot of gentle relief in having a child-like heart in these matters. Adulting mostly generally just sucks. lol

I sip my coffee and smile to myself. It’s not that bad, honestly. I’m house-hunting. That’s something pretty huge. It’s a time-consuming process, and well… that does take time. So, okay. I keep looking. I keep gathering resources. At some eventual future point there is a predictable logistical collision between available opportunities, resources, time, and decision-making, and then, shortly afterward… an outcome. I don’t even know what that outcome will be.

What if, and it’s not off the table, the thing that truly makes sense is to continue to work and save for retirement – the real brass ring in this game – and then utterly and wholly relocate (even out of the country)? Well… at that point, having a house would be no advantage at all. So. Yeah. Life is weird. I’m living one,Β this one, mine. I’ve no idea where this path leads, really. I think I know what I want… but I’ve inched along on this journey of self-understanding just enough to suspect that any notion I have of knowing what I want is, itself, a bit of an illusion. What is enough? (Honestly, that one is a frustrating bit for me; my idea of “enough” and the VA’s idea of “enough to loan me money for” are rather different… because… I’d live in a fucking yurt in the high desert well away from everyone, or out in the trees in a tent, or… yeah. I’m not actually all that fancy, as fancy human primates go.)

So, what can I do on a Tuesday to get a little farther to goal? Study, I suppose. Do my homework as a consumer. Be well-informed about what I am getting myself into. Be ready “when the time comes” … for whatever the outcome may be. Am I “there yet”? Nah, there’s a lot more to know than I ever will. It’s quite possible, at any point in life, to be more prepared than I am. There are verbs involved.

I sip my coffee. I think about life’s menu. I think over all of the many options – and these are only the ones I even know about, myself. I think about simple. I think about fancy. I think about enough. With one last swallow of now-cold coffee, I think about journeys, and progress, and beginnings, and verbs.

I head to my meditation cushion to begin again. πŸ™‚

It’s May Day. Maybe you are celebrating, too? Are you celebrating a festival of Spring? Perhaps you are marching for workers’ rights on International Workers Day? Personally, I am celebrating 6 years of marriage with my Traveling Partner. πŸ˜€ No idea if we’ll see each other today… likely not; it is also a work Monday for both of us, but our shared flexibility and comfort with living apart day-to-day prevents a lot of needless drama from erupting over those sorts of things, generally. I am okay if we get together over dinner or hang out awhile. I’m okay if we don’t; either way I am celebrating this delightful partnership of equals, today. πŸ˜€

Love.

Today I am listening to love songs, and smiling at memories of shared moments, flipping through photos of the past few years – those that we’ve shared as human beings, together on this bit of life’s journey. It’s enough to celebrate and Β honor the experience we share as lovers in my own heart this morning – there’s nothing about that which really requires us to throw money at each other, or deviate from our routines. What matters most is that we each feel it, and recognize this is worthy of celebration. Love is messy, tricky, and wonderful… and I am delighted to share it with this human being. Certainly, this is a partnership worth celebrating; I’m glad I have a day for it…Β  I tend to feel pretty celebratory about this love every day, the calendar observation is sort of extra. πŸ™‚

p.s. I love you.

Today, love is enough. πŸ™‚

Well damn. I guess it’s no wonder I haven’t found what I really earnestly want out of a wee little home of my own in all my searching so far; I haven’t been looking for what I want, in the first place. I’m glad I figured that out before I succeeding in purchasing something that would feel… over-compromised, crowded in, or uncomfortable for some reason. The art of living a value of sufficiency sometimes seems to come down to just being okay with things.

So, I took a step back to reconsider what I do want, and to regroup, figure out my resources, and what the path ahead will require from me. I’ve no problems with beginning again. πŸ™‚

Today is a gentle day. I’m enjoying it quietly, watching birds at the feeder, sipping coffee on the patio, doing yoga on the lawn as the morning warmed up before the park filled with families. I’m not inclined to make the day any more complicated than this. Maybe I give myself a manicure later… or maybe not… maybe I do a load of laundry… maybe I don’t. I’m in enough pain to put taking care of me at the top of my priorities today, so far that’s simply been a matter of taking it easy and enjoying the morning. Totally a worthy activity on a pleasantly quiet Sunday. πŸ™‚

Today is a good day to relax, and take care of this fragile vessel. Today it’s enough to be here for the woman in the mirror. πŸ™‚

I don’t know that it is actually an important thing. It’s an experience. A moment. I woke up crying. It’s not the first time. It may not be the last time. I wandered the limited space of my apartment in the darkness as if both seeking out whatever is distressing me, and also, perhaps, attempting to sneak away from it. I pace aimlessly, while plentiful hot tears spill silently down my cheeks, dripping from my face. I flutter a bit. I feel edgy and restless fighting off… what? I feel the mental machinery begin to spin up for a night of over-thinking this.

Then I begin again.

I breathe. I relax. I sit the fuck down and let the pacing and mindless cycles of movement end, in favor of a moment of self-inventory. I briefly take stock; what’s up with me? What do I need from myself? I pull myself back into this moment, here, in the quiet darkness, in the wee hours. I blow my nose. I let the tears fall without criticism. The living room is very quiet. The world feels very quiet from this quiet vantage point. I feel myΒ emotional state shift. My tears dry. I’m okay right now. The moment passes. I meditate awhile longer. Life’s practical burdens sometimes feel heavier than they need to. It’s not about the weight, though – it’s about the journey.

I’ll sleep again, when sleep comes. I’m not quite there as I get up from my cushion, alone in the darkness. I won’t feel like writing about this tomorrow, after waking from some other moment altogether. In fact, maybe I won’t write tomorrow, I think to myself as my feet take me into the studio to while away some minutes wakefully… I’ll write now. I’ll write about this… Maybe I’ll sleep in. I feel calm. Sleep sounds good…

…Tomorrow I can begin again.

I realized I was awake in the darkness, at some point, and once it was definite, and demonstrably no dream, I checked the clock. 2:22 am. I had no idea why I was awake. There was no light. No sound. Even the glow from the paintings that hang in my room had mostly faded. I felt physically comfortable, not too hot, not too cold, not twisted or stiff, not in any substantial amount of pain… Why was I awake? I probably won’t ever know that. I got up briefly, got a drink of water. Peed. Went back to bed, fully expecting to fall asleep again.

Some time later, I was still waiting for sleep to come. 3:43 am. Knowing the alarm would go off at 4:30 am, and knowing that I felt fairly alert, however inclined to sleep I actually felt, the wiser choice would generally be to just go ahead and get up at that point. I also don’t know why I did not do that. I turned over again, cuddled a body pillow, and “tried again”, feeling fairly certain at this point that sleep would not come; the best I could legitimately hope for would be to rest gently, meditate, and let the alarm go off, since I clearly wasn’t getting up.

When the alarm went off it caught me by surprise. I had at some point dozed off, and although I was not deeply asleep, I wasn’t awake. I got up, showered, dressed, all the usual morning stuff, and went to make my coffee. A most unsatisfying night of something that wasn’t particularly restful, and hardly counts as sleep. I’m irked by that; I have a date planned with my Traveling Partner, and want to be awake and alert for a late night. He understands my issues well enough to be comfortable not living with them. lol I don’t let my irritation with the weird night become “a thing” that might wreck my mood. The morning continues to feel strange and surreal. I find myself wondering how much I actually slept, and then find myself finding it weird that I am wondering that… and realize only then that I haven’t actually looked at that yet, this morning, which is… odd. It is a morning of broken routines, then, is it? Of course. It would be.

I sip my coffee, check my fitness tracker, and feel a certain comfort seeing that, all together, I got more than 6 hours of sleep. I can go all day on that, no problem. That’s something.

The morning feels mildly rushed. I am uncertain “where the time went”. I’m probably not moving through tasks and time quite the usual way. Something definitely “feels off”, but since I’ve no idea beyond that sensation what might be amiss, and actually feel generally okay, I let it go. No need to do root cause analysis on “weird”. Not this morning. πŸ™‚

The best bit of the morning so far, has been meditation, watching the sun begin to rise. Calm, chill, quiet time, without struggle or challenge, without interruption. It’s enough to begin the day with new perspective, however weird the night. I’m having my own experience… I knew my results could vary. πŸ˜€