A month has nearly passed me by without so much as a peep from me on my blog. I have not missed a month since I started this blog in the summer 2010 as a journal of sorts for reflecting on my life during a PhD program in Sustainability Education.
Here it is now six years later, and I continue to write.
I write because I have to write. I am a writer. If I don’t write, I feel unsettled, like something is missing.
I write because it helps me to make sense of my world, finding understanding in the seemingly simple act of putting words to a once blank page.
I write because I have the sense that I a not alone with those things I struggle with most in life.
I write to become a better writer, but mostly, I write to write.
Lately, limbo seems to have become an ever-present echo. I think it is less that limbo is there and more than I am beginning to appreciate and attempt to embrace the fact that life is unpredictable.
A being I love, be it canine, cottonwood, or other, may be here one day and gone the next.
Any day, my husband and I could get the word that we are bound for France…or otherwise.
How do I deal with limbo?
I play music.
I continue a six-year stint of “spring cleaning” that has become never-ending.
I vacuum, mostly because it gives me a sense of renewal, like starting over. It is an effort that reaps tangible results, which gives me a sense of accomplishment. Also, I hate the way cat litter has an insidious way of spreading itself through the far reaches of my Arizona home.
As I write, my husband is outside with a chainsaw, clearing away dead tree limbs.
The chainsaw is my vacuum, he told me earlier today, and I totally get it. When you feel like you are at a loss for control in your life, why not do something where you have some element of control?
What do you do when you are not sure what happens next?