Happy Valentine's Day!

My Valentine from Zoe.

the house that Dave built...

Dave stopped by today to show us his photos and journals recorded while he built our(now)/his(then) cabin. He didn't use a kit; it is a completely one of a kind home. He harvested the logs himself from trees killed by forest fire or beetles. He transported them and stripped each log by hand; including all of the rough cut lumber. I can't even imagine the amount of physical and emotional labor that such a project would entail. The doors and cabinets are all hand made, and even much of the hardware was forged by hand. The double pane windows were seconds, the maple floor in the living room was recycled from an old gym floor after a local school was demolished. The claw foot tub was rescued from a ranch were it was being used as a feed trough. And even the floor to ceiling wood shelving in Zoe's room were from an old schoolhouse. We are very lucky to be able to live here.

when coping mechanisms don't amount to real change

Having gotten to a stage in life where everything had fallen into place, I stupidly mistook my happy place for real wholeness and personal transformation. And then, because my brain told me that it was the smart and responsible thing to do, I made a small change. Nothing drastic, just a tweak; insurance of a sort. Knowing myself pretty well (or so I thought) I expected there to be an adjustment period and maybe that is all this is, but truthfully it feels far more disconcerting. I don't think I was prepared for how overwhelming old demons, unexpectedly resurrected, can be. Recognizing that what I thought was real and substantive growth as merely the soft cushion of avoidance is so totally disheartening. It would seem that mental health, happiness, and self actualization in my case is wholly dependent upon my not leaving the house. I can own that, I guess. Deep down I've always known that I'm a hermit and I like being a hermit. I guess what is really bothering me is that I imagined myself to be able to set that part of myself aside at will; that it was a choice, a preference, something within my control. In truth it doesn't appear to be. Writing this is helping me to accept it as an intrinsic part of my very nature. And, if I was one of those people who propounds embracing adversity as a path toward “self improvement” than this might be an exciting opportunity. But I'm not. To me, living life as a series of obstacles to be overcome, to try to fix what is not broken, is a complete waste of time. I am more of the mind that to practice gratitude, to quietly embrace ourselves and this existence, and, as Alice Walker wrote, to appreciate the color purple, is the healthier more fulfilling path. I feel better now. Thanks.

got ants?

An anteater illustration...

because there just aren't very many on Shutterstock.