T+1: It's About Time

NEW BUFFALO, MICHIGAN:  We got out of town on time, much to our surprise and exhaustion.  The last few days have been a marathon of endless work and stress, trying so hard to make sure we are leaving the systems of our life intact.  The transition in our house goes well.  Our demented dog, Louie, is in love…not with the house sitter, but with her dog.   This was a bit of risk, bringing in a house sitter with her two animals, a dog and a cat.   However, she is obviously an animal person, and we have been very concerned that Louie, who is so connected to us, and has very limited coping skills, would absolutely freak out. 

The object of
Louie's affections

Her dog, Tucker, outweighs Louie by at least 40 pounds.  He is gentle and well behaved.  Louie follows him around and watches everything he does.  Tucker has basic dog skills, like coming to “Come” and drinking from a bowl.   Louie follows Tucker in and watches with great interest as Tucker slurps water from a metal dish.   Whether Louie overcomes his great aversion to all things metal remains to be seen, but it is astonishing to see how much Louie has relaxed to be around this big, calm dog.

The cats are less happy.  There is some spitting and arching, but it is too early to tell whether war or acceptance is the future of the cats’ relationship.  Mimi, in particular, seems to be in high dudgeon.  She is mad about being kept in after her escape earlier in the week.  Then there was that rotten visit to the veterinarian.   Riding in the car is always a hated experience for this cat, and it is made much worse by getting shots.  She seems under the weather and lethargic before the entrance of the new cat Bailey.  When we leave, she is sulking on top of the entertainment armoire.  I try to coax her down for a goodbye snug, but she is not having it.  All we can do is hope for the best. 

The exit from Matrix was far from smooth. The thanking process after the fund-raiser had major problems, made worse by critical absences by staff, contractors, and volunteers.  A task that should have been done easily, well, and quickly stretched out for days, then weeks, leaving me to sign apology notes and re-issued thank you's late, late, late on Friday night.

It excites the fear in me that has been sitting at the base of my spine for months.  Will anyone, in the words of my favorite Marge Piercy poem, “do what has to be done, again, and again” for Matrix?   Will it be the first order of attention for anyone?   Then I wonder:  Is that even required? 

I am depending on a kind of radical trust to step away, even though there is a nagging voice in my head, whispering fearful doubts.    I make myself remember all the heart and time and effort staff and board have brought to Matrix for years.   I tell myself to get over myself and quit being such a narcissist. 

I close my mind to this riddling voice.   I know, oh so well, that my work-life has been unbalanced and unhealthy for years.  I have to let it go, for my own good, if nothing else.   This is not easy.   It is necessary.   It is better to believe in good.   Good comes best where good believes most.   Or so I tell myself.

We got on the road at 11:08 am.  Our goal was 11:00 am.  By the time we get to Chelsea, it starts to dawn on us that we have left.  Wes gives me a fist-bump.  It is not long before I am sleeping fitfully in my seat.  I wake up with a sore and clanging neck, but see that we entering the big forests of West Michigan.   We peer up the Kalamazoo River, looking either for kayaks or for remains of the devastating oil spill.  Neither can be seen.  We wait for the turn south that signals the approach of Lake Michigan.

We make the turn and look for exits to the Red Arrow Highway.  We have traveled this country quite a bit on our way back and forth from Wyoming, and seeing our favorite shops is a welcome relief.  We are on our way to our 1^st nights lodging when we see the turn off to the Warren Dunes State Park, with one of the finest beaches on Lake Michigan.  Shall we?   We shall.

We turn from the prescribed path, and in a few moments, we are taking our pasty white, excessively large selves gingerly into the brisk, clear waters of Lake Michigan.  We both know that a sudden plunge into the water is the best way, but we dither and giggle and squeal as the cool water laps against ever higher parts of our body.  It is not long before we are swimming and floating, marveling at the mountains of sand and the thousands of people up and down the shores. 

For the first time in days, I can feel my neck release.  Out of the water, we relax on the sand, and people watch with great delight, then decide to swim again. On the way out of the park, we stop at a farm stand and buy fresh picked strawberries and cherries.  Both are incredibly sweet and delicious. 

A few hours a later, we are in our room.  We are pleased that the trip is already working.  The trip to lake is just the first step of giving ourselves the time to be fully alive, not embedded in our fear or bound by the knots of our own making.  

It is early morning now.  The sun has not yet risen.  I have awakened nearly every hour all night long…still agitated by the amount of adrenalin coursing in my stress-addled veins.  When this day finally arrives, it brings a new order,  a day in which time is no longer the enemy, but a delicious new freedom to explore and just be.  It’s about time.