“If you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much space.” -unknown
My dear friend (who we affectionately refer to as Ramda) came to visit. My son nicknamed her that because we revere her wisdom. We live about an hours’ drive apart, on a good weather day. Since we are located in the NW region of Michigans’ lower peninsula, good weather days are random. In the winter months – November through April – the roads are going to be treacherous many days and impassible some. But it is spring now, so better. Unfortunately, this entire northern half of the lower peninsula has been experiencing record flooding. My friend got tired of me putting off a visit. I’m grieving and having panic attacks lately. Long distance driving is a daunting obstacle.
So she decided to come here. And then all hell broke loose in the form of thunderstorms and high winds. Many roads were washed away. The people who live in Traverse City have been told that the repairs will likely take six months or more. The damage is widespread, and given the weather this time of year, could potentially get worse. Ramda had to set a long, circuitous route and go north into the Leelanau peninsula and then come south to me. But she insisted, and I am grateful for her wisdom and her company.
As it happened, the sun was shining that day. We bundled ourselves against the forty degree temperatures and ventured to the nearby lighthouse for a beach walk. I pocketed only a few stones. As with most everything in my current life, I have refined my collecting habits. Now I only collect rocks shaped like hearts, or pink granite with a green line running through it. They grace my windowsills and sinks. These are the same beach stones that caught my eye as a child along these beaches. I’d tell you I’m in my second childhood, but anyone who has known me long will tell you – I never left my first. And it’s never too late to have a happy childhood.
She and I sat on the bench and had our usual deep, loving conversation…and some good ol’ belly laughs. Somehow we got on the subject of language itself, one of my favorite topics. We started talking about recent buzzwords that have entered the cultural vernacular. Words like envisage. And conversate. Soon we were cracking ourselves up using those in sentences…you kinda had to be there. But really, why? I see; I visualize. Feel free to envisage yourself right along…I talk. I don’t conversate. Whatever.
Anyway (which does not, nor has ever had, an S on the end, people) we had a lovely visit. These early spring days are glorious here. Exactly what I need for healing. I am more and more acutely aware of the collateral beauty. You know what that is, right? It’s the inherent beauty in all life, in being alive on the planet earth exactly where you are now. For reasons beyond me, it is far more noticeable when you are in a state of grief. I want to learn to be aware of it always. I want to learn to live with heightened senses, from inside a state of grace and compassion. To miss my lost beloveds and to see and hear them in the earth as it comes alive again.
My son and I have decided that we love living here near the water. Our little village has everything we need. When I was looking for a place to move I wanted to be off the beaten track (not in the drop-by zone) but with the most important amenities: a library, a post office, and a grocery store. I also got a wonderful local bookstore and several restaurants, and a six-bed hospital with world class medical care. But we do live on, as we call it, “the edge of the world.”
This is a destination, not a pass-through place. It is our own thin place. And it is just right for us.
A Painterly Home 