I took that photo this morning when I went to let the chickens out of the coop. The light was filtering through the air so beautifully that I had to at least try to catch it and I'm not displeased with how it came out.
It's been a good day but I am filled with a certain sense of melancholy here at the end of it. I very much enjoyed my lunch with Liz, and Jessie got to come and join us. Both Jessie and my daughter May have lived with Liz at different points in their lives. She is beloved by all of my children. She was even with me when I had Jessie. There is no one like her. She's been all over the place in the last year. Her mother is from England- was a war bride- and Liz took her over last summer and helped her in her garden and her cottage. Before that, she'd nursed and tended her after a broken hip. As she was relating adventures with Mom Care, I turned to Jessie and said, "Are you taking notes?"
The Tom Kha Gai soup was absolutely delicious and I drank every molecule of it. I also got a salad and it was good too but nothing compared to the soup. I have got to start making my own. I should start growing lemongrass again which I did in the yard of the last house we lived in before this one. The only problem with it was that it got huge! It became far more of a dramatic ornamental plant than an herb. But it was growing in direct sun which it definitely would not be here in Lloyd.
After lunch I went to Publix and then stopped into Costco briefly where I couldn't find the things I wanted and didn't feel like wandering the aisles aimlessly so I took my grape tomatoes and checked out and left and drove home. I was tired by that time. And, as I said, a bit melancholy. I think perhaps that I am becoming a little too used to being alone which is not really good for me. I noticed at lunch and while shopping that I was doing some dissociation and had to work hard to keep my mind in my head and connecting with what was being said and was going on. I think I was a little quiet. Maybe not. And it's ridiculous to be that stressed out, eating lunch with one of my oldest friends and with my daughter. It's a strange thing, a strange experience. The more I silently advise myself to "be normal," "pay attention," the more I think about the fact that I am not being normal or paying enough attention. Which only makes things worse and I begin to feel like an alien in human skin. But I knew that it was okay, that Liz and Jessie do love me, even if I have lost every social skill I ever had which were never abundant to begin with.
Shopping was the same. Feeling as if I was up somewhere near the ceiling, unsure of what in hell I was doing there, but I clutched my list and my pen and checked things off as I went in Publix, and in Costco, I just could not concentrate but that's okay. I know it really is. We will live without maple syrup or pecans in the pantry to replace the ones we are about to run out of.
A little while ago the setting sun painted the sky to the west that intense red-gold pink that somehow the iPhone camera just cannot pick up but now it's dark. The chickens are in the roost and it is very quiet. A few frogs are chirping behind the railroad tracks, begging for rain, I am sure. We are in need of it.
And please know that I am not lonely. I am quite content. This is just all part of who I am and I am way past the point of worrying about it overmuch. Tomorrow I need to clean out the chicken coop, take the trash, stop by the post office, and do a little more weeding if I feel like that. I have an incredible life and soon my husband will be home. Despite having to haul my mind back to reality the way one would tug on the string of a balloon, I had a wonderful time at lunch.
All is well here in Lloyd for me.
Interesting musing again. I think that mental state has overcome a lot of us. I have difficulty being present where I am. Came home from the library by a different route than I intended yesterday. Just not mentally present to where I was driving. Not lost, just on an okd auto pilot, driving up the road I used to live on which I never do mosses. So I think that's similar, mind going hundred miles an hour on imaginary dialogs. I think it's stress plus isolation from normal activities.ReplyDelete
Yes. I agree. Although at this point I'm not sure what normal activities are. I vaguely remember getting out of the house more than I do now. I feel that perhaps I am permanently changed.Delete
Mosses? Nowadays!! Auto defeat.ReplyDelete
The magical top picture with shafts of morning light filtering through the mistiness and the foliage seems to reflect your slightly dislocated mood. I guess that COVID and its implications are partly responsible - an unwanted guest who has stayed too long.ReplyDelete
Who would have ever thought that a virus could affect us all on earth this way? It's changed everything in a myriad of ways, hasn't it?Delete
I love that photo of the light filtering through the leaves of the tree.ReplyDelete
I'm still sick. My heading is pounding and the big guy is sick too. Yay.
Oh dammit. These stupid viruses! I'm so sorry.Delete
There is nothing wrong with being solitary, with not desiring company, with being alone and being content.ReplyDelete
I agree. It just makes going out so odd for me. Probably for many of us.Delete
Maybe the problem isn't whether or not you're being "normal" but your perceptions of normalcy. I think most of us live with a level of distraction and dissociation, even when we're sitting with friends or out in a social situation. Maybe you are, in fact, perfectly normal in that respect. :)ReplyDelete
(I find that the more I'm online, the more I feel that way, weirdly.)
In any case I'm glad you got out and visited with some people.
Thanks for the reassurance, Steve. I appreciate it. And you're right - what in hell is normalcy?Delete
There's nothing wrong with being content to be alone - but it's obviously nice to know it's an option isn't it. And oddly enough I had (bought) Tom Kha Gai soup yesterday and it was lovely. I should try to make it myself too but at the moment I'm just not feeling it. Love that first picture too - it's just stunning!ReplyDelete
That is so funny that we ate the same type of soup! And I mean- it's not like it was chicken soup or something so very common like that!Delete
I'm glad you liked the picture.
I think it is the holiday season that makes it hard to concentrate. So many things to do and Christmas is coming so quickly. It is hard to NOT think about it!ReplyDelete
I'm trying my best not to think about it while in fact, I am freaking out.Delete
I think I have disassociated for most of my life ... It's unnerving!ReplyDelete
It is unnerving! And I'm sure it's a coping mechanism.Delete
lovely photo of the light through the trees! I understand (I think) the feeling of disassociation (sp) you describe. Spending time alone is not a bad thing all in all, but when one is then thrust into a social situation (of ANY kind- even shopping)...... it's almost a strain to keep up with the input. That's how I feel, anyway. It's easy to be alone....more challenging to open the mental channels to *outside* stimulus. does that make sense?ReplyDelete
Yes. The input can just be terrifically uncomfortable. And your observation about opening the mental channels to outside stimulus makes complete sense.Delete
I do know that disassociated feeling, for me it's as if I am separated from the world by a glass bubble, everything muted, even my own thoughts and feelings. As for the melancholy, I think I've decided not to try to outrun it anymore, but to let it take me, like a leaf downriver, and see what shore I wash up on. Hugs, dear Mary.ReplyDelete
And the light through that tree is otherworldly.ReplyDelete