first we have to see

[underused]

A few years ago, we (partner, cat, dog) moved from an apartment in a rapidly gentrifying urban neighbourhood to an old house in the country. It's been an adventure with a steep learning curve--not only in its practicalities, but in its more existential readjustments.

I grew up in the country--in this house--and couldn't wait to leave. Now, somehow, I'm here again, building a life on top of a mountain of nostalgia and assorted crap. I love this place, but it makes me crazy. I'm also alone a lot. I mean, I knew I would be, but I thought the isolation would compel creativity. Turns out, not really. Until now, I had also (optimistically) assumed my reluctance to self-direct was situational. Also not so much. I've made some miscalculations.

Above all, I had no intention of writing about this--possibly not ever, certainly not today. I meant to tell a snappy, impersonal story about a secondhand cast-iron sink. Now I'm three paragraphs in and thinking maybe context is okay. Maybe.

If not, I still have the sink as a fall-back.

First we have to see. Or first we have to be taught to see. We have to be taught to see here, because here is everywhere, related to everywhere else, and if we don’t see, hear, taste, smell and feel in this place - not only will we never know anything but the world of sense will be by that much diminished everywhere.
William Carlos Willams

Comments

[amidthestars]

Being alone is HARD. It's wonderful, too, in moments. Wonderful when the opportunity to step outside of your solitude is a choice you can make with ease. But when it isn't, especially if you (like me) are the sort whose own head is overwhelming on the best of days... it sometimes feels like there is nothing worse.

I would also venture to say that you have done more creating than you might think. The work you've put into your home, your yard - into recipes, and gardening, and painting and sewing and designing. That's not nothing. Those are big creative accomplishments (which I appreciate in a whole new way now that I have my own little space and feel intimidated at the thought of even simple things, like buying a bookshelf or some curtains). You haven't stopped creating. I don't think you could if you tried.

[underused]

So I read this last night and it's lovely. And I'm proud of what I've done. But also, THIS is why it doesn't make me feel better. ☺

First, if you list all the things after the fact, it sounds ok, but I know how much I could have done and didn't. Sometimes I think my most creative accomplishment has been convincing people I'm not wasting all my time. (Which is a phrase I hate, but maybe that's another post). And second, (and this is just bt us, haha) I think I'm an art snob. I mean, I'm not when it comes to other people--and even in my own head, I'm like "make a beautiful life and you'll have done something worthwhile," but there's a part of me that will settle for nothing less than esoteric accomplishment. My ongoing inability (and lack of motivation) to write makes me feel like... well, not good, no matter how many walls I whitewash or lavender I plant.

I'm seriously the worst. ugh.