Diary 1/10/19

My creative muse has quieted down from the upwelling riotous mode I arrived with at Kendal. I am less urgent about the need to express myself in any medium. Today, I managed to pen a celebratory drinking song (wine, beer, or water?) as a birthday salute to the talented singer that hosts the activity we call Song Swap, every other Wednesday evening. She knows by heart, hundreds of songs from many genres, though is an expert on Civil War era songs. Performing all over the world, she and her husband have based themselves here for several years now. We are so lucky to have them. He is our main AV man and recently rewired and digitized the entire auditorium’s sound and lighting system for any sort of presentation.

Other than drinking songs, I am rather quiet, matching the long awaited descent of snow and cold temperatures by hibernating. The too early spring-like weather we have had for so long, summoned sprouting plants that must now retreat back underground to reawaken in a few more months. The current overnight freezing temperatures will keep the recent snowfalls covering our world. I do not feel frozen, but rather, suspended. A Pathwork lecture* (number 224) that I remember from years past, was titled Creative Emptiness. For me, that is a description of the taste of Awareness in silence. I experience deep draughts from a plenum of emptiness that brims with unlimited potential. I am simmering things for the future but even a personal daily diary has been a stretch lately and my blog an inviting blank page.

I am still here, though. In lieu of anything more thoughtful, I will share that my move to a larger room is at long last actually in progress. Yesterday, the noise of ripping up old carpeting in there brought knowing glances from everybody I saw. Workmen installed the underlayment for the incoming laminated wood flooring I purchased, and they say, it will be done by Friday. The head of facilities for the Care Center and I both thought we should count on that as meaning that by Monday or Tuesday, I could be moving in. The empty boxes cluttering up my small room for the last month will now be filled. I get to change my mailing address from 514 to 602 Kendal Drive. Even though it is just a move down the hall twenty five feet or so, that means contacting the P.O., Social Security, the bank, my insurance, my tax man, my lawyer, etc.

I am not looking forward to the temporary chaos that will ensue over the next couple of weeks. But it is my final move and I am very much looking forward to being settled in my new space. It is a great location in terms of accessing the places at the Care Center I most utilize now, and it has the advantage of no longer being as close to the nurse’s station. That can be rather noisy with activity, both during the day, but also at night as the staff keep themselves entertained during the long quiet hours when most of us are sleeping. Besides having more needed space, the loveliest advantage is that I have a kitchenette, ensuring that I can fix healthy supplemental meal additions for myself. Then, right outside my door, is the Country Kitchen, the make-to-order breakfast spot for the Care Center. It was originally designed solely for families to make their own food or to share take-out meals with loved ones who were ensconced here in recovery, or in their final days.

That kitchen has a communal stove, (I am only allowed a microwave) double sinks, dinnerware, pots and pans, etc. as well as a large fridge with a freezer drawer. My personal tiny fridge freezer can harbor flat ice packs,, but not much else. I am the queen of ice packs around here, using them on my back all day long. If I like, I can sweep out of my room wearing my bathrobe directly across the hall to break my fast with friends. The space is active from about 7:00 to 10:00 in the mornings (closed on Sundays) and sporadically with occasional families and other small gatherings. I am awake early anyway, so the pleasant chattering and delicious morning food smells will not bother me. They arise from friends and immediate neighbors and the small kitchen staff are the best friendly waitress/cooks imaginable. They know each of our ‘usuals’, and the right coffee or tea or particular juice and muffin appears at your place the minute you show up.

My new room is painted “Veranda Sunshine” yellow and I am happy to know it awaits me, glowing cheerfully, even on a dark January day like today. And it will be complete with new “Butterscotch oak” flooring. Moving into my last home while informed by stillness, is my little heart’s desire.

* The Pathwork is a psycho/spiritual practice my husband and I studied for many years. https://pathwork.org/the-lectures/

4 thoughts on “Movement and Stillness

  1. I just reorganized/rearranged by treatment room and waiting room. Kind of amazing how excited I am to be in those spaces now. Of course, I am the sort that gets excited over putting order to anything – like my wallet or sock drawer… May your upcoming move work out well for you, Love, Elaine


  2. Would I ever love to spend an evening a month reveling in Civil War era songs!
    I assume by now you are well ensconced in your new digs. Hope it feels as comfy and caring as you envisioned. We are just emerging from a deep kitchen renovation [after 28 years in the old one which was totally fine and serviceable, but, hey, somebody had to go an mention that it looked like a really nice 1990’s kitchen and, voila, it needed to be renovated with stone counters and new appliances and….. But it does look great!] and feeling like this is where we will live out our years. But, do I hear God laughing? Oh well, Enjoy.


  3. God is always laughing- how we humans go about enjoying life and discovering pleasure. Yes, I love my new studio apartment and am finding more joy than I imagined in a more homelike environment. Stone counters- nice!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s