Searching, Struggling, Scribbling

I'm still struggling with The Block. Probably the biggest creative block of my life. And I hate it. And I suspect I've bored you silly with it, which I think accounts for why I've blogged so infrequently since my Trip-of-a-Lifetime-Epic-Dream-Come-True Adventure.

But there's no getting around the fact that a big part of me has gone AWOL since my return. It's the part that exists between my imagination and my hands. Maybe it's my shadow. And even though months have passed since my Adventure I'm still trying to catch that elusive connection and sew it back onto myself. But it's hiding somewhere in Derbyshire and doesn't want to be found....

Life continues on in spite of Adventures, and things have been rollercoastery here since my return. So much so, that I've yet to nail down a lot of what I experienced there. And then I lost almost all of the photos I took! And then I grieved. Losing my shadow just seemed like part of the trauma. And it wasn't until well after Fest that I began to really worry about it.

As always, it helps to write, but drawing still seems out of the question. Why, exactly?? I wish I knew.... I begin a sketch and want to wreck it right away. I feel like a toddler with a big fat crayon and little clumsy hands, like I haven't the skills to execute all the Amazing that I see in my head.

This has to be overcome. Now. Months have passed! Folks depend on me. I have work to do!

I promised myself I'd begin this new year with some attitude. Tell myself that I won't stand for this any longer, no excuses, pick up that pencil and make a mark, scribble if that's what it takes! And I might just find out that what's been struggling to surface is the experience of my Big Adventure. There has to be a reason my shadow is still far away, right? Losing my mind/hand connection immediately upon my return from England can't be a coincidence....

And maybe by stepping off the rollercoaster here and focusing intently on my memories of there I can reconnect my two halves and feel like myself again....

Myself. Only different. Because Me-Before-England doesn't exist any longer. And I have yet to really try on and walk around in Me-After....

*blink*

(Sounds of crickets chirping)

Well, huh....

This could be interesting.
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Still Here

I've been far from the keyboard lately, up to my neck in the busy-ness that is summer here at Tumbledown.

There have been big blissful grandbug moments and hot sunny days plucked from a Calvin-and-Hobbes strip. And, of course, I'm still trying to digest my recent Trip of a Lifetime, put my impressions in order, make wonderful magickal sense of it all.

It's butterfly season, too, and all is in full swing here. Stacks of caterpillar-filled plastic beer cups line my kitchen countertops right now -- a MUCH better season this year than in the recent past. My days start and end with milkweed as I try to save the world one monarch butterfly at a time. It's not much in the grand scheme of things, I know, but I like to think I'm making a difference somehow.

Plus, the Renaissance Festival is just a few short weeks away. So much to do and prepare for, set up and consider! I see it in my head and feel both anxious and eager.

So much on my plate right now. And then there's YOU-- in my thoughts every day.

The last time I wrote was a while ago, wasn't it? A whole month has passed without a post.... I was in a mood then. And after pressing the 'publish' button I backed away from the keyboard and had a hard time returning to it.

Sorry....

As you know, the post was all about 'losing friends and negatively influencing people,' and I was feeling somewhat unloved....

But as one awesome Facebook friend would later put it, "...if some people come and go, be grateful for those who will always stay!" So I know now that my focus was in the wrong place, on the wrong people. There are folks here who are devoted, constant, steadfast, willing to take my bad with my good (bless you!; I'm so grateful that you're here that I want to go there and give you a big hug), and they're the ones I should be focusing on.

Wonderful people.

Like you.

I heart you, my friend; I hope you know that.... And plan to hear from me again soon, OK? Because lots has happened. And I have lots to tell you.

Love,
...me.

Gathering the Ingredients

Been home nearly a week already and every day has been full-to-overflowing. There are pets to reconnect with, gardens to weed, grandbugs to wrangle, Mayfaire biz to take care of, suitcases to unpack (still), and big thoughts to think....

The list is LONG and I can only address one thing at a time (because I've forgotten how to multi-task, apparently), and the more that queues up for my attention, the fainter my England trip grows.

I've become the kind of human bean that experiences even the simplest of events with every sense available (and I'm not kidding, I think I grew some extra ones over the years; it might be my mutant X-Men power....). And afterwards I almost have to shut down, go far into my head, mix the ingredients of my experience, bake them, taste them, savor them, and enjoy their leftovers x 100 in order to feel like I've Been There, Done That.

But that hasn't happened yet with my Trip Of A Lifetime, and my memories of England are growing a little stale....

My body has ways of dealing with stress -- it waits for the first sign of a lull and then pulls the plug -- and this morning I woke with a Mucinex® commercial playing out in my lungs. It was a phlegm Frat Party down there! And verbally evicting the celebrants was out of the question as I'd even lost my voice. :(

However, today began with rain and shadows. It's the American twin of Derbyshire out there. No lawn work for me today. So my plan is to unplug even further and go within. Mix the heavy ingredients of my English recipe and steam them. Baptize the results with a sip of spirits so they stay moist and tasty forever. Then indulge at my leisure.

And share in little bits, of course. Even the smallest of servings is rich beyond measure.
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My Epic Dream-Come-True Adventure

England was on my Bucket List before I even knew what a Bucket List was. 

It started with the Beatles (I was six when Ed Sullivan hosted them on his show; I'd never even heard of England....), and then just grew from there. I fell in love with 'Sherlock Holmes', read 'National Velvet until my copy fell apart, learned to like hot tea. I dreamed of riding a pony in full English kit. I swooned over Mr. Darcy. I stalked Prince Charles from afar.... I read about quaint villages, thatch-roofed cottages, church fetes, and steeplechases. I used 'gymkhana' in sentences. I asked Santa for jodhpurs.

In high school, my Poetry teacher and I discovered we shared a love of All Things England, and she and I became close friends. Gretchen encouraged my English interests, and over tea we often talked together about our individual dreams of going there someday. She shared with me a story about her best friend from college and how the two of them planned to visit England together, but then their youthful travel plans were shelved as the two enjoyed careers, got married, raised families. Still, they continued to dream together about their trip of a lifetime. Until her friend died unexpectedly....

It broke my heart when I heard Gretchen's story, but I told myself that would never happen to me. I was young! I had YEARS to make my travel dream happen! But after graduation those years barreled along. I got married, worked a bunch of jobs, and started a family, and during that time I began a correspondence with a woman in Derbyshire by the name of Maureen. At the time that we became 'pen pals' we were both young mothers with two small children, and the two of us had a lot of common interests. I looked forward to her letters, and over the years she and her loved ones became like Family to me. She was my connection to England.

Time passed and our friendship deepened. Maureen and I exchanged long detailed letters as well as cassette tapes on which I heard her voice and the voices of her children. Then e-mail became our mode of correspondence, followed by Facebook. I think all that somehow worked to mollify me, to make me think that through the miracle of ever-fancier technology I was somehow fulfilling my dream of meeting my friend.

I never forgot Gretchen's story and she never let me forget it either, often ending our visits by reminding me NOT to follow her example and put my trip off until it was too late. I kept insisting to myself that I was going to be smarter! I was going to make the dream happen! But in reality I was afraid to. I was afraid to travel alone, yet I didn't want to do the trip any other way! And it's one thing to write to someone over the years -- editing and honing and choreographing my words until those paper 'visits' were Just Right -- and another to spend a week in their company. Plain and simple, I was afraid I'd get to England and Maureen wouldn't like me....

Our kids grew up. Our lives changed. I got divorced. My nest became empty. Money was tight for me, so foreign travel was out of the question and never seemed to be IN the question. Still, every year Maureen wrote asking, "Do you ever think you'll visit England?" and every year I'd answer, "Maybe this year, who knows??"

Well, this year I know. I know. And when she asked me again for the umpteenth time and I told her, "Yes!," I think we were both so surprised that neither believed it at first.

I'm not sure what, exactly, prompted me to finally make it happen. I do know that being 'unwell' not long ago got me thinking Big Time. It was a serious and dramatic kind of unwell (at least to me), one that I'm sure was just the flu, the kind a person should annually get vaccinated for (I hadn't, but I've never missed an opportunity since). I've never experienced anything quite like it. It made me fear for my life.

As I suffered in the throes of that flu, drifting in and out of fever dreams, I thought about what all I’d regret if I somehow didn't recover from it. What were the Important Things? What was I doing or not doing with the remainder of my one wild life (that felt like it was hanging in the balance)? What were my regrets?.... As it turns out, there were LOTS. And one was having never met Maureen proper when meeting her was (and still is) so dang do-able.

So, not long afterwards I went online and booked my own tickets, to hell with the expense. And I'll be leaving soon! Like SOON soon. My big wish is to keep you abreast of this Dream Come True experience by posting photos and snippets here, but I have yet to figure out how to do that exactly from so far away. If I do, you'll be along for the ride! And if I don't, I'll tell you all about it once I return, 'k?

Wish me luck. I'm a big Travel Baby! But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't over-the-moon excited about stepping out of my comfort zone and taking myself on this Epic Adventure.

(P.S.: And if I can do it.... Well, just imagine what YOU can do.)
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