July 8, 2007
I cry easily these days, and often feel “at a loss”. On the outside I do the job, the friends, the family, the yoga, the walking, the writing, the housework, the newspaper, the bedtime reading of a novel. On the inside, I am like, don’t bother or distract me, I am busy watching, I am bearing witness to the passing of an era as surely as though I was watching the sun set on a turbulent, stressful, rich and rewarding day. I am sitting here with my camera focused and ready to capture whatever comes before my sight line.
I make travel arrangements for next month, then start making them for holiday travel to Portland and home. I begin to plan my own fall trip to pay a short visit to my daughter’s new world and hang with an old friend in SF, my favorite city. I search for college dorm bedding online; I join the parents listerve and get lots of advice about weather, winter clothing and when to fly out of Arcata to avoid the fog. I edit, post and order graduation photos for the family and friends.
Why do I feel “at a loss”? it is one of those idioms we say all the time without thinking about it, and yet it is perfect actually. I am suddenly face to face with a big stop sign--- right smack up against a loss that is so imminent my feet seem frozen in place, making it hard for my usually decisive planner of a self to ever feel as though I am doing quite the right thing. I cannot discern what I want to do, how I want to spend my time, changing my mind several times before doing something with my “free time”. A big part of me wants to hibernate, to only work on these preparations, to stay focused inward. Yet, as I finally did today after some inner turmoil, when I venture out there, into the world around me, I find mirrors and companionship; my fellow humans remain fascinating complex creatures, unexpected sources of inspiration and advice.
