Today K and I made our annual pilgrimage to the MN State Fair, the second largest state fair in the country. A long history have we with this "great minnesota get-together," it has specific associations with particular friends. Last year, we didn't go, as our friend K was still recouperating from open heart surgery, and he is one of the components of our compagnie.
Today, two years later, I find myself at the DNR fish pond, a beautiful place to watch the native fish of our state swim lazily around their pond. And I thought comes to me peacefully, which I know now to recognize as Truth: you are a profoundly different person than you were last time you went to the State Fair. Very true. Lots has changed; the fit of things, and people are shifting. I am trying to let these changes be as organic as possible, although I am fighting them more than I would like. THere are unspoken words out in the ether--mine are out there, the responses are not making their ways back to me. I feel like if it were important, they'd come back so I could get a read on things. I am left only to suspect and assume, which feels icky. ANd then there are the awkward silences. Also really uncomfortable after may years of friendship. There only good changes are those between Karl and and we want to hang out together more. These are refreshing alterations for each of us.
Today at the fair was so different from past fairs. I felt myself trying to hang on to people, to keep our experience within our old pod. Evolution is a way of life, but my comfort zone is very thin right now, and narrow, I am grasping at gossamer threads that kept slipping from my hands. I struggled with wanting to be on the same page. If the same page was waiting around for other people more than actually seeing the fair, I begrudgingly report we were on the same page. I need, more than ever, free form wandering, and yet hold on to the old ways of what used to work, when I was different. They are the same, and I am different. This may be our last Fair year en masse. It wasn't that much fun. In fact it felt stressful and chaotic and also mind-numbingly slow.
Thank god we have tomorrow off, just the two of us and balance will be restored. I am ready to move on, in so many ways, but more research needs to be done, choices to be made...and we hold hands and jump off the cliff into a new, deep pool of water.
About Me
- Catherine
- In this blog I have created a haven, a place I allow my deepest emotions to go and sit. I can write easily about what I’ve accomplished. This biography I can recite in my sleep. But I’ve always written poetry and in diaries since I was a teenager. I continued to write poetry in my journals, and not until 2006 did I show them to anyone. I generally write every day, at the present in memoir form. I haven’t written poetry since my mother died in January, 2007. I didn’t write at all between her death and the death of my father three years later in January, 2010. On my father’s birthday in March, 2010, I began this blog, to honor my father and to help me grieve. But I also desperately needed to write, and this stream of conscious style emerged. I needed to find my organic voice.
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