Me time

It's a Saturday morning and it's not a horse show day. I'm sitting on the couch, in my pajamas, with my coffee, reading the internet. 'Reading the internet' is my own code for scrolling through my Facebook feed, checking out Pinterest, opening tabs in Chrome for  articles I find I want to read, and doing some Amazon browsing for books and other stuff. It's not necessarily an ideal Saturday morning, but it's fairly peaceful. Nobody else (but myself and Noah) is up yet, so it's quiet. I've fed the dogs and the guinea pigs, and I am intermittently working on some things I need for a meeting this afternoon.

I am a person who highly values my time alone. I have always been this way, but never really realized how important it was, or how much of an impact it had on my well-being until later than I would have liked. 'Know thyself' has always been one of my personal mottoes, but it probably should have been 'Life is a constant state of learning to know thyself', because that is more like what has happened over the years I have spent so far.

My "perfect" Saturday morning would include some solitude. Depending on a number of factors, I would choose to be riding early in the day, or working on some creative project. In the winter, it's easier to want to spend the time at the sewing machine or with paint or clay or glass. I don't like to be interrupted, though, and my best, most favorite times are when I can work alone for a few hours until the creative drive is generally assuaged.

The state of "flow" is one of my most comfortable places to be within myself. I spend a lot of time in my head, so this isn't surprising. I've found this remarkable state while running, riding horses, sewing, and working glass, and for the uninitiated, it's a hard thing to describe. I guess if I had to commit, I'd say my ideal Saturday morning would include time spent in that state. It's an addictive place to be, because it makes me feel powerful in a way my daily life doesn't really allow.

Today, I'm not there. Today, I'm here, on the couch with my coffee. I'm writing, so that's something, but soon I'll have to get up and get started on this day. I think I'll consider a project that I can start tomorrow.

Immortal

I think I was maybe 12? Maybe younger, when I first realized I was not going to live forever, that people did not just live forever. That seems old to be discovering that fact, but it's when I had my first experience with a family funeral -- the death of my maternal grandfather. I saw the ritual, the mourning, the disbelief and devastation that the loss of him wrought on my family, and it was odd to think he would no longer be around.

I think I was 30 when the *actual* realization of my mortality hit me. It was then that I made some significant changes in my life -- painful, difficult, with long-term ramifications -- but necessary, as I realized then that I did not want to live the rest of the time I had left in the manner I was living it.

When I was forty, well, that's when I got scared. Not by any particular thing, except the realization that this life, this very life that I was living, would end someday. By forty, I had had all my children, my career was stable, my marriage solid and joyful, and I was living the best life I could ever have imagined for myself. It was in that year, and in subsequent years, that 'things' started to happen around me. Not TO me, but near enough that I felt twitchy. Accidents, unexpected deaths, CANCER, irreversible changes in economic status, career, relationships...all to people I knew, people I loved, people in my sphere of acquaintance. It was, and still is, periodically, enough to make me want to hide. Or to do something reckless, because I'm going to die anyway, right??

Except I have come to the separate conclusion that there really aren't as many opportunities to be truly bad-ass anymore, once you've passed your thirties or so. Definitely by 40, the *chances* of badassery are much less, sadly. Not saying it can't, or doesn't, happen, it's just...less. Badassery in your forties is typically some level of insanity, and is described by others as such. Not that I much care for others' opinions at this point in my life. Although I do, sometimes.

But I digress.

I've come to make a level of peace with the fact that I will be gone from this earth one of these days. Hopefully not soon, and hopefully after my children are well-established in this world. I think the biggest fear of leaving is that I would hurt the ones I love, so I am trying to have as wonderful and fulfilled a life as possible, so that when I am gone, my loved ones can say that I lived my life to the fullest. It's a personal goal. I'm under no illusion that I will leave this world having done all that I really want to do -- that list is long, and monumental, and my personality is such that I am constantly finding new experiences that I want to be a part of. See my previous post about creating, for some of that.

It's pretty likely that I will live a long time more, at least another 40 or so years, given my family history, and my general good health. But I think the drive to create, to make things, make experiences, make memories, photographs, costumes, saddle pads, jewelry, dessert, essays....I think fundamentally all of that comes from a place of a desire for longevity, permanence, a legacy. On some level, I hope I am leaving enough of a mark. On another level, I know I am. Life is an adventure to be lived.

Perception

"Right now, there is so much possibility and so much potential swirling around, it's almost painful. I love this, and hate it, too, because it could all lead to everything I want, or nothing. Walking that thin line between patience and persistence takes skill and an educated eye. The beginning of this new month, at the near start of spring, feels like a swiftly-shifting whirlwind, bringing me closer and closer to what I'm looking for. On the other hand, I know from experience (that "educated eye") that power is working in the background, and pushing my luck here, getting cocky, getting my hands in before it's time, may leave me with an unsatisfying result. I need to stand back a bit, and let the scene unfold before me. I've seen glimpses of what can be, and I like it. Now, to wait, and wait, and keep a watchful eye. Patience is key."

I wrote that around March 1st, and at the time, it was truly the way I felt. But another snowstorm, continued cold and grey weather, general crumminess, and a feeling like the road has suddenly got very, very long has contributed to feeling a little less so. Still, patience is key. I wish I had more of it.

Travis had shoulder surgery this past Wednesday, and we were prepared for a significant reconstruction and a long, difficult recovery. Thankfully, we got much less than that, and compared to his previous six knee surgeries, he's doing remarkably well. I'm amazed by how easily he has adapted, even though now I am overly worried he will over-do things and hurt himself again.

I also had typed out a long post about cost comparisons between having horses and doing other expensive hobbies, but I got so far into the data, it was becoming pedantic. Suffice it to say, there are people in this world who honestly believe that someone who owns one or more horses is obviously very wealthy. My observation is that I have spent ten years in the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism), and I have never heard of anyone checking out someone's new Pennsic-size Panther tent, or their elaborate silk and linen and wool Twelfth Night (or Coronation, or Investiture...) clothing, or their new custom helmet or armor bits and saying, "Wow, they must be really loaded". A new tent costs as much as a horse, a full set of basic, decent armor is equivalent to a saddle, totally spiff clothing equals various horse things (blankets, bridles, other small bits of equipment -- one of my linen cotes = $65 = the recent cost of a new winter blanket for the pony)....and a weekend event with camping and feast can equal a local schooling show or small horse trials. The reality is, if you are spending a year being fairly active in the SCA to include at least five overnight trips, a War event, and keeping up your fighting/clothing/camp equipment kits, then you are spending about as much as a 'regular' person with a horse or two who doesn't go to rated horse shows, takes a lesson every other week, and buys secondhand tack and equipment as much as possible.

It's just about what you choose to spend money on to enjoy your life. I tend toward the "expensive" hobbies, of which the SCA is one....I'm still a glassworker with an expensive kiln and torch, and I do have a significant fabric addiction (and three sewing machines). Travis is getting into digital photography, with all the cameras, lenses, and computer programs it comes with. We don't play in the SCA that much anymore, and we have definite life goals to move out to a rural area to keep our horses and other animals at home. Nobody's won the lottery, we just save, and choose the less-expensive options as much as possible. I know plenty of other people who do the same, or similar. Just wanted to dispel that particular myth, not only for us, but for the other 'regular' horse-owning people out there.

Now, if we WERE to win the lottery,a big one, all bets are off. A big farm, a new truck and trailer, the perfect horse for me, instead of a 'project', all of it. I already have the plan all figured out! Just need the cash!

Now.

Snow day. Starting with teleworking for Travis and myself. And coffee, of course.

 The kids are already absorbed in various Minecraft-related endeavors on the iPads. I swear,sometimes I think we should skip over buying them their own handheld gaming systems and go straight to iPads for both of them. It's a thought. An expensive thought, but a decent one, nonetheless.

No snowfall in Virginia escapes my morning-after snow photography. It's been a long time since I had proper snow boots. Maybe fifteen years or so. I think it might be time to invest in a pair of good, insulated snow boots, like the L.L. Bean boots I wore in college. My rain boots do not cut it when the temps are low.

It's really cold, maybe 15* at the most, which for this part of the south, is pretty chilly. It's four inches of "sweeping snow", the kind you can get off the cars with a broom. For those of us who are transplants from harsher winter climates, it's not that big a deal, but around here, it's cause for school closure, stay-off-the-roads warnings, and the opportunity for teleworking.

It will likely all be melted, or rained, away by the weekend, but it's nice while it lasts, and makes me feel like I have at least a little bit of winter each year.

I love the way our house looks in the winter with a coat of snow.

Even the backyard, fairly utilitarian-looking in the winter, is pretty with a frosting of snow. The dogs love it,but the kids, astonishingly, have not been outside yet.

But I have been outside already; the sunshine is bright, but cold, and everything sparkles.