My Favourite Sight

I will never, ever tire of seeing this view out my bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen windows. In any season, looking out and seeing the chicken coop makes me happy, makes me feel content -- even when I'm fretting about things. It appears my current bout of fretting and anxiety and even despair has passed; I'm fortunate that these things do pass for me, since they are career-related. The past year and a half certainly makes me more empathetic to those who struggle daily with depression and anxiety. 

Speaking of making people happy, the book sale - which ran again on Sunday because of low turnout on Saturday - raised over $600 for a local, rural library. Very pleased about that. And it was nice to have conversations with people - live and in person! - about books.

We woke up to a couple of inches of snowing that arrived silently during the night. Apparently, it is only snowing down river this morning; Dwayne drove into town and says "half a mile up the road, there's nothing". Oh, the micro-climates in Nova Scotia, and we seem to live in a micro micro-climate! It may seem unfair to teachers and students to have a snow day on the first day of March  Break, but I thought it a good day to stay in my pajamas and read; that lasted until 11 a.m. Shouldn't have turned my phone on.

As much as I love this view, I don't write much about country living anymore; it does develop a rhythm and a sameness. I value that, even if I chafe at the isolation (not related to the pandemic but because resources and opportunities are so far away from where I live). It seems my writing is moving into a new area: my spiritual writing may be taking me in a new direction. That will require exploring new ways to get my thoughts and ideas out into the world -- a new blog? a video channel? what else is out there?! -- but none of that needs to happen soon. I realized that I was trying too hard and putting pressure on myself to create my "next big thing" without actually knowing what that entails or what I need. So I put the brakes on. Actually, I braked, pulled the car off the road, and parked it. 

Figuratively, I got out of that car and walked away. Right now, I consider myself "laying fallow" like a field, taking a rest, resting my heart and my mind in order to rejuvenate them, taking a break from all the striving and pushing and not getting anywhere; it's time to lay back and watch the clouds float by. I've done enough work that I can rest and be still, let the soil of my spirit regain nutrients -- be inspired again -- and see what road opens up because of that work. 

And you know, living where life is quiet and simple, relatively unchanging, and predictable still seems the perfect place for a writer like me to live. The chicken coop remains my symbol of belonging and contentment, as well as a reminder that sometimes you have to break the eggs in order to make something new...