Farmhands

I'm reading Vilhelm Moberg's first novel The Emigrants, the first in a four-book series about Swedes who emigrated to the U.S. and the start of my research for the Story (see my last post). Currently in Moberg's book I'm reading about farmhands in Sweden, who were usually in a year-long contract. Life was brutal.

Reading books about what life was like 150 years ago creates ambivalent feelings in me. On the one hand, I long to be more connected with the earth and daily survival, pre-industrial age. But on the other, I feel grateful for inventions of convenience and human evolution that mean I don't have to spend an entire day doing laundry, or clearing stones or stumps from a field to till it, or suffer persecution because someone who is religiously zealous is spreading rumors about me.

Today Don and I spent time clearing and burning sticks that had fallen in the ice storm, and cutting and stacking wood for the wood stove. Don has a chainsaw, and we only had to do this work for a couple of hours. On the one hand, we got to be connected with the earth and daily survival. And on the other, right now I'm sitting in the family room typing on my laptop with the woodstove supplementing the heat from the gas furnace.

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A story

This is a shawl Lesley wove, and gave to me. Oh bliss.

There is a story to be told, and I'm going to tell it. It might take the rest of my life!

It's the story of four women. My grandmother, who was born to Swedish immigrants in Chicago and became a successful New York artist and designer. My mother, a brainiac New York musician who submitted everything to her minister husband, to Christ and the church. Me . . . hmm, a woman with too many creative outlets. My daughter, a child of punk rock who is becoming a New York designer. Four generations of women with creativity in their genes who face struggles within and of their generations. I started researching Swedish emigration yesterday. It has begun.

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Consciousness

Thanks to this Presence Process life continues to be interesting.

This is week 4, the week we look at pain in our life without covering it up. Physical, emotional or mental pain.

Yesterday was a doozy.

The whole day I had a splitting headache. I rarely have headaches, but when I do, I take an ibuprofen or two, and that takes care of it. In The Presence Process Michael Brown encourages us not to cover up any pain this week, but to focus on it and see it as a messenger, a friend. I obeyed, and without ibuprofen, it was a challenge to get through a day meeting with students and answering emails.

After Don left for work in the morning yesterday, I looked for my car keys for 30 minutes, including through the trash (coffee grounds and all). Nowhere. Where could I have put them? Thankfully Lesley’s car is in the garage, so Don called and re-insured it for the day, and I drove it in to work. Guess what, Don found my keys in his coat pocket at school and doesn’t even recall putting them there.

One more anomalous thing happened yesterday. Online I had ordered wild caught salmon from Alaska night before last. I always order 8 pounds in order to get free shipping. Got an email confirmation yesterday that I had ordered just one pound, and the shipping was $20. I paid far more for shipping than for the salmon. I called Alaska, and it was too late to change the order, it had been shipped!

The amazing thing yesterday is that I did not get upset about any of it. (Maybe my head hurt too much to get upset.) I don’t pat myself on the back. But I feel grateful to teachers like Michael Brown who are sharing what has worked for them to become more present.

I may get upset about something today. I don’t know. But I can feel the habit of responding and not reacting starting to take hold.

Here's a quote from Viktor Frankl: "What is to give light must endure burning."

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