...Wait for it....
Everyone has weeks of heartsick exhaustion. I suspect. This past week seemed as good as any to have one myself- I've had a head cold, I'd been traveling a lot, and I did not get what I wanted. The future looms all abyssal just in time for my 29th birthday. Also, didn't have time to stock the fridge, so feeding myself has been a bit spotty (those failed no-bake cookies? Hello, breakfast, lunch and dinner!). I get cranky when I'm hungry. It's one of my many endearing traits.
So. That said.
I have had to ponder life without the island.
I have managed to survive life without theater; life without boyfriends A,B, and C; life after the house in Little Deer Isle. This would just be another heartbreak. What is there to fear in that? I literally laugh in the face of heartbreak (at least while people are looking). My disappointments in life have generally been so minor, and the rewards so major- this one would not be inconsolable.
While I am hopeful that something might work out- that I will find some way to remain tethered here, to remain at home here- I am preparing for the possibility of emigration. Which means I am looking at my work in a new light- I am considering how I need to have all the ends tied up, so that I can leave cleanly, having created some sort of sustainable order. If I leave, I want to leave having fulfilled my obligations, and having done so relatively well, so that should people think of me, they will think of me relatively well. Yes, let's get on with the legacy building, shall we?
This is what I have been stewing on (beyond the obvious scheming to make ends meet after August) this afternoon. Have been having a hell of a time finding photos of myself "with other people" for the Institute's Island Journal. I only take pictures of myself when I am alone- when in company, I am the photographer. What photos my friends have are probably not at all appropriate for the Island Journal. So this left photos at the school. There are approximately six pictures of me (or really, with me in them- there is a difference), spanning the year and a half I have worked there. As we scrolled through events, and I continually didn't show up, there was the refrain- "oh, but you weren't there were you?" More often than not, my response was "yes, actually, I was."
Well, I wanted to do the seeing, so should I lament not being seen?
I walked home to my own journal after the staff meeting- I've spent six years with this particular journal (I juggle them), nearly to the day- and it is almost ready to be retired. As the evening moved on, and the sun began to sink ever lower, I decided to run an errand- something to give me a tangible reason to get out of the house, to wander at magic hour. I gathered up my Netflix; I penned a quick "thank you" note; and then it was out onto the deserted street, in the hour of the deer. I didn't see a human soul, walking when the sane world sees to supper. This April day has been blustery and cold, but filled with light- it could be March, it could be November. I would wish it to be part of an unending autumn, not a presaging of summer. I don't want the pace here to pick up, I don't want my contract to end.
At the Post Office, I slipped my mail into the outgoing slot, and wandered to the store, to belatedly erase my name from the UPS whiteboard, then headed up the familiar walkway to the church. I thought I should probably clarify a few things with the universe. Communication is important, so I've read.
Having set things straight, it was on down the tree-canopied lane (now rutted with wash-outs), and out onto the open expanse of the field- startling the inevitable deer, tails pink in the thickening light. Unafraid of mud season, I exited toward the road by the power station, such as it is, and came to a piece of public art, such as it is. A large rock, it is impaled all over with small propellers at wild angles, backed by a very large propeller. Many of us scratched our heads last year, as one island resident labored away at this project. It was to be a memorial to his best friend, a man who had basically founded the power company. I didn't think much about it- being a newcomer it didn't make a whole lot of sense, sticking a bunch of propellers into a rock. It was of course, the Dark who enlightened me (ha ha ha), as it was his father skewering the boulder:
"It's all about the pain in the ass of trying to move forward when all these little minds are working against you in all different directions"
I paraphrase, but that was the gist. Yep. Gaining consensus is a pain in the ass when you know you're absolutely right. Like much public art, this had faded to the background for me. It wasn't something I'd thought much about or looked at since. But today- drawing out the walk, pensive about what feeble legacy I would be leaving (tape a pinwheel to the stone for me!)- I realized that this man had gone ahead and stuck propellers into a glacial erratic.
As in, it will probably take another ice age to move it anywhere. Regardless of propellers and righteousness, minds small and large.
And at that, I laugh-
Rock joking with me at night.
Nearby, deer scatter.
.
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