Leaving the Premises

Hello faithful friends, It’s officially spring! I’m saying Hi to the new buds, the rainy wind, the early birds and the longer days. Bring it on!

The Lure of Plans

The ground has shifted. I'm in other territory. I have left the premises.

Why haven’t I accomplished more these past few months? I wondered: Did I over-plan? Am I meeting my own expectations of who and what it all would be? Or to put in another way: What is going on?

To answer I had to restart and regroup, take stock and become aware of the actual situation. Based only on my previous Vancouver life patterns, ideals, and anticipations, along with their predicted outcomes, I had projected plans and potentials before we moved. I keep waiting for all that to kick in, and it’s been almost four months now.

My over-planning involved a big over-view of all that I could accomplish once I was out of the distraction pressure-cooker of city life in downtown Vancouver. Now I’m here on Salt Spring Island and more settled, the pace has changed, I look again.

Those plans could well have been a lure, something to hypnotize me long enough so I’d be able to make such a massive change. As I mentioned in a past issue, I knew I was moving to a great place, but had no idea I was changing my life. That life-change part was numbed out.

My life pattern is not really in place yet. Or, I should say, my old life pattern’s expectation of the new life pattern isn’t in place.

There’s a new subtle ground that has taken the place of the old one, and it speaks a new language: one I’m now required to learn. Now I’ve really moved. In a very true sense of the word, I have left the premises.

Is this a Thing?

Each morning I put on my fuzzy winter jacket, wrapping it over my fluffy Costco robe. Bundled in this get-up, I go from the downstairs bedroom and head along the rustic stone steps up to the main house to put the kettle on. I feel like stout Alexandra David-Neel as I trek up the outdoor stairway, the dog pulling on the leash as she smells the tracks of morning mice and distant deer.

Extra universal reinforcement of this look came the other day, in town. A sketchy guy walking with a huge maroon suitcase balanced on his head, African-style, caught my eye. I noticed he was wearing the exact same lilac-coloured Costco robe, tied by a sash at the waist. Is this a thing? Are we all Alexandra David-Neel now?

Slipstream of Time

My new sense of time makes this newsletter feel even more intermittent and ephemeral to me.

The weeks swim by like slippery fish and I can’t seem to catch them. If I try to hold them, they writhe from my hands to leap back into the stream.

And now, in the 1 year anniversary of the pandemic lockdown, I’ve been reading articles and other commentaries on our current conditions, about openings and possible local travel and the promise of a flowering summer. People are saying what I also feel - they aren’t ready to go back to whatever was normal, into the full face of the social environment, the impact and complexity of life as it was. It’s been good to have space away from the “madding crowd” and to take stock. I’m not ready yet for people or places or events.

When it is all TOO MUCH the answer is simple: just narrow the selection, reduce the options, and go more deeply into the space where there is more possibility to choose.

I wonder if it’s possible to apply a personal process of data disaggregation to all those previous concepts formed by old sense ratios and reinforced patterns. Untangle some of the unique and specific areas that were glossed over into the averages that became the basis of the old premises.

Is that like mindfulness? Hmmm, maybe. It is definitely a way to adjust interpretation, and create new understandings. Why not make that process personal? Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, right?

It might be one way to get ready, and to apply that fresh mind to the coming tsunami re-opening of everything this summer, fall, and coming winter.

Personal data disaggregation is an idea I’d love to follow up - but, like many of my ideas lately, it might just flow by in time’s swift river.

Meanwhile, in the world of ongoing movie entertainment…

Pass the popcorn! Here are a couple you might have missed:

  • For sound design and old tape recorders, switchboards and radio, look for The Vast of Night. You could see it with your eyes closed, but keep them open for the great cinematography.

  • For acting and theatre and John Cassavetes, dig out Opening Night on Criterion. Just go with it. It is fantastic.

Thanks for staying with me on this newsletter, for reading, and sharing. If you like this issue, please click the heart!

See you next time :)