Like LIFE in general, the creative life is a series of ups and downs, summits and valleys. You need the rain to enjoy sunshine, right? At least, that’s what “they” tell you.
The last couple of months have been… well, hard to describe. Not horrible, but not exactly uplifting. An overwhelming numbness, where the days just run into each other, a constant blah. More than once, I have forgotten what day it was.
I decided to (temporarily) run away from home. I rented a camper van and took off for the great wilderness north and west. I wanted to retrace some of the steps my father and I took on our road trips. We didn’t go to amusement parks or Las Vegas or Disneyland, we went to Yellowstone and Mount Rushmore. We camped and fished during those childhood trips. No fishing this time around, but I can attest that a camper van is way more comfortable than a tent.
Driving is very numbing, but also cathartic. I like the connection to the earth, to see landscapes slowly change from woods and snowy mountains to hot windy desert and salt flats. I made it to a friend’s house in Nevada and it had completely slipped my mind that it was Mothers’ Day. Thankfully, he and his wife and son were gracious during the interruption. After a night of hurricane force winds, I headed to Sonoma and the cool breezes of the coast. And I kept driving, like a woman possessed, through Arizona and New Mexico. I might still be on the road, except my rental was up and I had to return the van to Denver.
Did it help? Maybe a little, but I can’t tell yet. There is a definite hole, most sorely felt on Tuesdays. That’s the day of the week my husband and I would make and have dinner with my dad. It was the only day of the week I was certain he had a choice of a fresh green vegetable. His favorite was asparagus. (He sometimes balked at my veggie choice, but not often.) His normal menu included fast food and frozen stuff I didn’t recognize. (I’m all crunchy and healthy these days.) Tuesdays now finds both my husband and I a little bereft.
(The last time my husband spoke to my dad, he mentioned he’d have to find another old man to bring dinner to on Tuesdays. That made my dad laugh, and I’m glad. We haven’t found a replacement old guy yet. Now taking applications.)
So yes, there’s a little bit of emptiness left to fill…
Not that I’ve been wallowing in grief and self pity, mind you. I am constantly pushing myself out of laziness (as you might know if you’ve followed me all these years). My garden is massive this year, and that’s taken a lot of my time. (My husband decided to stock up on baby vegetables in my absence. Zucchini anyone?)
I haven’t been working on my re-write/editing, but I write every day. Sometimes it’s just a page in my journal. I’m also working on a notebook called “Letters Unsent.” I pick a random person, sometimes a high profile, famous person, sometimes someone in my life, and write them a letter. Just one page, expressing my doubts, my anger, my disappointment, sometimes my excitement and pride, etc. I have no intention of mailing these letters, and no intention of publishing any of it. It’s mostly an exercise in expelling venom. We writers use words on the page to say things we can’t say out loud.
I’ve also been working with my hands. I inherited my dad’s kitchen table. After so many Tuesdays of hot meals on paper plates, three round, slightly worn patches were left. The first thing I did when I got home from my road trip was to refinish the top. (I marked on Sharpie underneath where our plates had been.) It was something I had promised I would do for at least two years. (Sorry, I don’t have a “before” picture.)
Dad’s refinished kitchen table.
I’ve also done a lot of jewelry. I find that beads and wire wrapping are mind-numbingly easy to do when your head is empty but you want to rid yourself of energy.
Dangle earrings in copper, natural gemstones. Also in bracelet and choker.
Someday soon, I’ll get back to the re-write. I feel it will be very soon. In fact, I’m going to push myself very soon.
Then look out, world!
