Sightlines

Adrift?

Saturday, May 31, 2008. My friend Peggy has a wonderful phrase: "Connecting points with the world." In Seattle I had lots of them--job, house, the familiarity of the neighborhood, friends. The well-worn rabbit trails to the grocery store and the dry cleaners.

Here in Portland, there are of course, far fewer of those points. On the way to Cannon Beach a couple of days ago Connie asked me if I felt "adrift." Yes, sort of. I suppose a Buddhist would say that all of us are adrift, all the time. There really is no ground. Yes, and, I still need connecting points; I'm still a novice Buddhist.

One of my connecting points is Daily Sightings--the email-with-photo that I send to about 200 folks each morning. To be offline--as I was post-move--was to be adrift and isolated; to be back online was surprisingly settling. Daily Sightings has become far more than just a daily mailing function. There's a community of folks who frequently comment or just say thanks. Most of the folks I don't know personally, as in, face-to-to-face, but some have been subscribers for several years and I have grown quite fond of them.

So I guess this business of moving, of re-settling has much to do with both maintaining connecting points, and finding new ones. As the explorations unfold, it's reassuring to affirm the existing connections. Cheers.

Rooms with a View

Wed. May 29, 2008. Last Saturday was one looooooong day of moving. First there was the off-load at the apartment. Everything went up 20 floors in the freight elevator.

Then it was off to the Public Storage site to fill a 10’ x 10’ unit, only to discover that it wouldn’t hold everything. So we rented another unit, a 5 x 5. And we stuffed that one too.

Back “home” by 6:30 where we cleared a path to the kitchen and the wine cache. Our reward was a magnificent view of an approaching thunderstorm, complete with rainbow, which of course we took as a omen that we’d made a good decision to come to Portland.

It’s now Day Six and I wonder how many hundreds of pounds of boxes have I lifted, moved, lifted again? Moving is one long series of decisions: where do the CDs go? And it’s one long Search. Where are the CDs? Where is that hammer?

Our apartment has two bathrooms, a large living room / dining room, a small kitchen, and large bedroom and a small office. Total of a 1,000 sq feet, and between a ½ and 1/3 the space of our “old house.”

The building seems a cross between a retirement community and a college dorm. Besides the freight elevator, there are two others to service the 24 floors. Yesterday two cool dudes in black t-shirts sauntered off the elevator just as retired couple—one with a cane—entered gingerly.

One resident with a small dog told me there are “about 40” dogs here. One adjustment that is taking some getting used to: going down and up 20 floors to let Lizzie “do business.”

It takes 35 seconds to descend. Time for a quick meditation? Sure. Cheers.

Follow-up to Farewells

Sunday, May 4, 2008. The "Synchronized Farewells" happening was two weeks ago, and I have no idea how many participated, but Seattle Resa sent along this reflection. I'm sharing it with her permission.

"Thanks for your blog and the memory of my digging. I have been in my house now for 28 years. As you ran past, you may remember the sidewalk plywood and big hole next to my house. It was about 7 years ago when I dug up around the base of a vintage, big cherry tree to access the old plumbing. A new water line was installed and when it came time to fill the huge hole; I had a party!

My friends came with shovels and helped toss the dirt back in. Each had an opportunity to place something in the hole and say "goodbye". My friend, Darci, put in the old junk, paper litter, old music tapes that her "ex" had left in her car and she was delighted. Some friends were very private and did not share stories about what they put in the hole. We filled it.
That hole has an old picture of Jack. My divorce attorney really wanted to come and contribute. Since she couldn't make it that day,  she encouraged me to I cut off a huge stem with big thorns from my roses near the hole. She asked that I place the rose stem deep and lenghtwise into the hole. The rose stem thorns represented the "ouch" and the beautiful green stem, a symbol of my continued growth and metamorphosis.

My recent home project is new windows! There is even more quiet, calm, warmth and energy efficiency in my house. When I want, I can open a window and feel the breeze. This summer I will smell the roses. Thanks for inspiration."