resisting much needed fallowness.

the garage heater is humming downstairs, working desperately hard to heat up the cold garage. (we are trying to dry out the carpet that got wet from the melted snow dragged in by buddy's giant tires.) otherwise, it's completely silent from where i sit. i'm upstairs in our new temporary home, on the L-shaped deep purple couch, my legs crossed and extended. the windows overlook the madison valley, and the peaks of the mountains are still hidden by the cold cloud cover from morning. it's half past 3pm already, and i'm still in my pajamas, blanket wrapped around my shoulders. i've only been up for five hours since i stayed up past 1am to watch the season premiere of downton abbey. ; ) 

since january 3rd, i haven't known what time it's been when my eyes first open. i just wake up when i wake up these days. sometimes the bright sun light will beckon me to rise. sometimes (like today), it's dark and cloudy and sleeping until 10:30am doesn't bother me like it used to when i'd "sleep in" until 9am. 

my husband went into town to run a few errands: make copies of keys (which we hardly use), go to the local meat shop, sign up for a gym, and return library dvd's and donate a book i finally finished (ender's shadow, in the slim chance you were wondering). mostly though, i think he was excited to just roam around our new one block town and have some alone time. me too (about the alone time). i've been wanting to be quiet and think...

why am i painting this scene?

well, because i'm reflecting on fallowness today while simultaneously sitting in a large L-shaped couch of discomfort. the discomfort that comes with not feeling like i'm being a productive member of society.

this morning's quote from inward/outward triggered the externalization of my deeper internal jumble:

There is a fallow time for the spirit when the soil is barren…. Face it! Then resolutely dig out dead roots, clear the ground, … work out new designs by dreaming daring dreams and great and creative planning. The time is not wasted. The time of fallowness is a time of rest and restoration, of filling up and replenishing. It is the moment when the meaning of all things can be searched out, tracked down, and made to yield the secret of living. Thank God for the fallow time! 

Howard Thurman

2014 is a sabbatical year for me and my husband. we've moved to ennis to S-L--O---W D---O--W-N and let the dirt settle in our lives, our minds, and most importantly, our hearts. and as much as i know and believe that this is the best decision for us right now, i keep wanting to kick the dirt around; to unsettle the soul because some part of me can't seem to stand still. i need to keep doingdoingdoing and searching for external achievements. it make sense: i have an ego (ha!) and i've been flowing down a fast river for some time now. it's not easy to just bring that much energy to an abrupt halt and to accept myself just as i am, not for what i accomplish.

but i feel the mountains that surround me are calling out to me to settle down, to calm my mind, and to accept (and love) just being. i came here to create a huge wide open space to allow what needs to emerge, emerge. and i predict that the mountains are what will call out "great and creative planning" and "daring dreams" for this life ahead. but first, i need to stop playing with the dirt and let my fallow time be fallow.

it's now a quarter past 4pm. the mountain peaks have finally emerged. i too shall wait (hopefully patiently) for the clouds to clear...

to be a monk. or, just a wannabe.

it's hard to believe that i've been back in the bay for 11 days. just one day longer than i was in montana. the past 11 days have gone by too quickly, too busily, too too much of everything. as a point of comparison, the richness of each day in montana easily flowers into my memory, alive with every detail. but i can barely remember the whirlwind of activity that has been whizzed past me in the same amount of time. how unfortunate! i regret allowing my mind to get overwhelmed by a belief that i needed to fill my time and "be productive."

more than ever before, i've been acutely bothered by the pace of life and the insane drive here in the silicon valley. i feel a growing desire to move away from the frenetic silicon valley beat, and instead, find and listen attentively to the native rhythm of life. what might that feel like? what would that look like?

thankfully, i am flying to france on wednesday to spend ten uninterrupted days on a tiny island called Île-aux-Moines -- or, "island of the monks." part of my fiance's family is from france, so we're making a trip to visit with them and to rest.

i have been told that no cars are allowed on this island, and that everyone travels by bicycle or on foot. i'm looking forward to just being there, observing, loving, laughing, enjoying, slowing,... and i'm especially looking forward to picking up my camera again. it has collected a bit of dust over the past few months, and i feel the tiniest itch that the island will awaken me creatively.