Fear and Dread

Sorry for the dramatic titles of the last two blog posts, but I thought this would be the perfect sequel to "Indecision and Inertia," in which I likened myself to an anvil.

After writing that last piece while my family was out of town, tooling around San Francisco and having a wonderful time on Google bikes, etc., I decided to dedicate a few hours to understanding inertia better. I collected six pages of notes on the subject. My favorite: someone asked an expert,"How do you overcome inertia?" His two word answer was very scientific: "By force."

Armed with a new understanding, I forced myself into motion in my bedroom, which has long been a difficult space for me to organize. I have a lot of heavy pieces of wood furniture there: a corner desk unit (3 parts), a rather tall dresser, two bedside tables, a very large headboard and footboard framing a king size bed, a bookcase, a treadmill, a filing cabinet with a roll top structure above it, and, last but not least, an armoir.

I know what you're thinking: a bedroom should only be for sleeping and associated acitivities. Get rid of all of that stuff! But it isn't the furniture stuff that was bothering me -- it was the stuff within the stuff, like clothes I never wear, other family members' clothes that need mending or hemming, etc. etc.

I've cleaned and organized this space many, many times over the years, only to watch it deteriorate into chaos again. But I am apparently a master at repacking. I take everything out and put everything back in...instead of tossing everything that should be tossed. Oh, I'm not a hoarder! (Doth I protest too much?) Really, I am not, but I must be really good at sorting and putting away, so that it looks neat and tidy, for a while at least. I amaze myself sometimes with how much content I can condense into a small space.


So this time, recognizing that my room in general and my closet in particular were areas that awakened within me fear and dread, I took courage and plunged in. It took me a couple of hours to convince myself to do this, picturing in my mind the image of a giant train rusted to an unused stretch of track.It took a tremendous amount of force to turn the wheels an inch, four inches, one complete rotation, the track groaning, the train grinding and heaving. After I had been going a while, and could see the carpeted floor of the closet, I actually used a garden rake (the kind with flexible steel tines) to gather bits and pieces from the closet floor. (A certain daughter has been using this cloistered space for some time as a sleeping/reading/snacking place.) I employ unorthodox methods sometimes when cleaning house.

I had to reach a stopping point that night -- it was not to be a one day project. I have returned to it twice since. But the train is in motion. I have broken through the inertia, at least in that one area. And I am giving things I never use the heave-ho this time. Why store it in the unlikely event I will ever need it again? Part of having faith in the future is letting go of the artifacts of the past.

Everything in life analogous to something else. Lessons everywhere!

Indecision and Inertia

January...a month 'pregnant' with possibilities, an  'expectant' new year...Where best to spend my time?

Indecision has been the boon of my existence in recent weeks, months...years? Since turning 50, I have been frantically warming up for something, but I am not at all sure what it is. I puzzle over this every day, occasionally working myself up to a mild level of enthusiasm for this plan or that.

It feels like I am waiting by myself at the starting line of a one-woman marathon. The gun signaling the beginning of the race sounded hours ago in the distance, almost beyond my consciousness. I was not aware of it until moments later, when I recognized its meaning. I am having a delayed reaction, but I am still running in place for all of the reasons a runner might run in place: to keep my muscles warm and supple, to psyche myself up, to visualize a course of action leading to victory. This constant state of agitation and anticipation has resulted, inevitably, in  frustration, because I am inert. I am not a marathon runner. I more closely resemble a giant anvil on a pier that is used to hoist ships from water. There is really nothing more inert than that.

Maybe I am in the doldrums of life, adrift at sea without power and without wind. Unwilling to propel myself toward a hospitable port somewhere by paddling, I float along, hoping not to be overtaken by pirates or have my vessel toppled in a storm. The current, though slow, will carry me somewhere, and I will be on a new adventure.

First Take on Friday, January 9th

After not writing anything on this blog for almost a year, I truly hope to write every day going forward as a daily stretching exercise for my writing. Subject matter will be the issue -- what will I find to write about every day? Well, there's always something.

I just watched U.S. Senator Barbara Boxer's "interview" conducted by her grandson announcing her retirement and I was struck by one quote: "I have a thousand accomplishments." What must that feel like?

We are still in the single digits for January and Christmas has been put away. The tree and all its trimmings, our burgeoning collection of nutcrackers, our village, our santa shelf, the wreaths and garlands...all safely stowed in the basement ready for, well, later this year. It's nice to have my house back. It always feels much larger when Christmas is gone.

Today I am excited about (of all things!) polishing our piano. It's a 118-year-old concert grand, 7 and a half feet long, made of rosewood with elaborately carved legs -- absolutely beautiful, but severely neglected. It is played on a daily basis, but it is so large and so old it really needs its own maintenance schedule. I wonder if Barbara Boxer would consider polishing the piano an accomplishment? Probably not.

Mrs. Sanders Has Been Found!

I have not looked at my blog (this blog) for several months, but when I went to look at it tonight, I saw that a comment had been received and was awaiting my approval to post. Frequently, such comments are from non-English speaking cons in other parts of the world who want me to invest or think we may be related, etc. so I am used to reporting them as spam and moving on, but tonight...and every night since Nov. 27th, apparently...there was a comment by (or at least about) my all-time favorite teacher, Mrs. Ann Sanders. I've been searching for her for decades now to thank her for being such a HUGE part of my life.

The comment said that my "beloved" Mrs. Sanders is now Dr. Sanders, and she is the assistant superintendent of the Kansas City, Missouri School District. With that information, I soon found an article praising her many accomplishments before, during, and after my eighth grade year, when she taught Social Studies at Broadmoor Jr. High in Overland Park, Kansas. She was fantastic! (I encourage you to read my earlier post in this blog about my quest to find her. Another of her former students found my post and joined my quest.)

So, for the moment at least, all is right with the world. Just knowing that Mrs. Sanders is out there and that she is still involved in education makes me happy. If all teachers could be as informed, as enthusiastic, as respectable, as professional, and as demanding as Mrs. Sanders, we would have the best education system in the world, bar none.