My friend Susie gave me a book when I visited her ranch in Shasta. It’s called Keep Moving, by Maggie Smith (not the actress). A bunch of aphorisms really resonated with me. Here are some, mixed in.
I think it’s time for an update on how I’m feeling these days. I continue to choose to literally and metaphorically “keep moving” forward. There are days when I just want to drive. Sometimes it feels like I’m doing some sort of penance for still being alive. Other days I feel I’ve been given the gift of a completely new and wonderful life. I can start to feel guilty for feeling that way, but then I remind myself I would want Sharon to feel that way if it were me gone beyond.
I’m not suppressing the feelings of loss and grief, at least I don’t think I am, but it does feel like it’s chasing me and I’m trying to outrun it. I talk about Sharon with people I meet and the friends I visit, I cry sometimes, but I also understand we all get the throw we get, and mine continues. I have processed her loss enough that when I think of her, I think of our love and all our wonderful years, not her pain at the end. Mostly.
I’m trying new things, seeking new experiences, practicing being more confident and maybe a little more daring. I’m also driving many hours in silence, practicing being ok with my own company.
I miss physical intimacy and emotional connection. I love meeting new people, but a rootless existence is anathema to meaningful relationships beyond a certain level. I’m open to opening my heart to new love, but I’m also overwhelmed imagining the changes that could mean. I’ve experienced a lot of change in the last two years, and I know change is what makes life so amazing, but I wonder sometimes if I’m keeping my heart safe in my chest by changing states rather than emotional states. I’ve learned this impulse to uproot one’s life and travel after experiencing deep loss is really quite common.
In a completely different arena, I’m still trying to get comfortable with this strange new reality of “retirement”, which really just means the ability to decide how I want to spend my day, every day. I’m spending ten days here in Tucson as I wait for my friend Bárbara Martinez to be here for a show this Sunday. (I can’t be this close and NOT hang around!) I’m spending my days hiking and going to museums and movies at night, but it all feels a bit aimless. I keep thinking about a character’s comment in Steinbeck’s “Travels With Charley”. He refers to himself as “A person of no consequence.” I know I’m very consequential to my family and my beloved friends, and they to me, but that’s not my point. It’s the question of purpose. On one side, quoting Dylan, “You gotta SERVE somebody…” but on the other, do I really? I fostered a love of music with my students for 40 years, and with Ecobags we moved the needle in raising awareness of needless waste and put millions of reusable bags in people’s hands. Maybe it’s ok to pass the torch. Maybe fighting to preserve our failing democracy isn’t my responsibility. (But if you don’t follow Heather Cox Richardson, you should…) Maybe it’s fine to accept this achievement of financial freedom that Sharon and I worked and saved for our whole lives. It hurts so much that she isn’t here to enjoy it with me. But does that mean I’m content to just “wander the land”? Apparently not. I’m not looking for work, so I can’t find motivation there. The one area I feel I can contribute and also feel personally fulfilled is in playing music for people. But trying to find the right venues and audience on the road feels like work, and I’d rather go for a hike. But that feels a bit aimless. And here I’ve gone full circle. Let’s leave it as something I’m sitting with.
I don’t know why I continue to avoid working with the music studio. I watch training videos on music software, and I get excited at the prospect of what I could do, and then I just watch more tutorials instead of making something. It bothers me, but it also doesn’t bother me. I’m just being patient with it. I feel like I’m a caterpillar and the van is my chrysalis. Maybe my caterpillar self is liquefying and transforming into something unrecognizable, but still identifiably me. (I wonder if caterpillars ever think, “This is taking soooo long!”) Maybe, but maybe music just isn’t a priority for me right now. I’ve lost just about every other identifying role that defined me, what’s one more? It will come. I’ll never not BE a musician, I’m just not MAKING music at the moment.
So, in summary, I think I’m doing a qualified great. Grief is a dull ache, not a hot iron. Joy is in embracing the day with gratitude, which I do. I can’t say how I’ve changed on this journey (Lifestyle!), just that I know I have.