It was just about seven months ago when my dear friend Jen suggested I start a blog. She got me set up here on Vox and I never looked back. Seventy two posts later, I am still here and loving every minute of it. Writing this blog has been one of the most healing and affirming experiences ever.
But now, well, I think I've outgrown this little spot over here at vox. Its hard to leave comments if you are not a vox member. Its impossible to get stats. It's very hard to really personalize the site and frankly I am sick of the ads. I am ready to move on and have a REAL blog, a community and a site that makes sense for both me and my readers.
Thanks to the butt kicking of the lovely Jenni Ballantyne and some encouragement from Jen Lemen I went out and purchased my very own url. It sat around getting dusty for awhile while I tried to figure out how to load wordpress and make it nice and pretty. I had such hopes for it to look beautiful and perfect, to be full of art I had yet to create. For about a month I was paralyzed by my own perfectionism and visions of art. I didn't know how I would get started let alone how I would make it how I wanted it to be so I just avoided it.
But these days I am working on letting go of perfectionism and in holding it all so much lighter. So I decided to go ahead and launch it even though it wasn't quite perfect. Afterall, my blog is a perpetual work in progress just like me.
I finally finished getting it look acceptable, if not completely finished. I have loaded my old posts up on there and after this post will start to blog over there now. Head over to it here to check it out. If you want to know the url and maybe even set up an RSS feed its www.megcasey.com. Not clever I know, but hey, it will be easy to find me...
I am still struggling to come up with a good tagline and invite you all to comment (over here or over there) to help me out. Bamboo Journal was a name I chose in a fit of desperation. Really I picked it because I love bamboo and I couldn't think of anything better. Frankly I am not wild about it. When I purchased the url www.megcasey.com I did so also in a similar fit. I picked it because it was available and frankly I couldn't figure out a more clever name for my blog. But I need some help from you all who read this blog, who may be more clever and witty than I, to come up with something that will help capture the essence of my little writing home..
Lastly, I am sad to say, that while I was able to figure out how to upload all my old Bamboo Journal posts, I haven't really figured out how to get your soulful and wonderful comments up there as well. Right now it feels a little naked and lonely without you there. So please feel free to come by and leave a comment. If you are a regular reader who has never commented over here because of the difficulty of commenting on vox, please delurk and drop me a line over at the new place to let me know you are here. I would love to hear from you. And it will make the new place so much more cozy.
Hope to see you over at the new place.
xo and blessings,
Meg
Last night I went to bed at 10:30.
In the two months since I have been wheat-free I have been a bundle of energy up until all hours of the night, extending my day with electric sunshine--our house the one that is lit up until all hours. I sit on the front steps with Jackie, I practice my guitar, I read, I fold laundry and clean the house, I send emails, I even write a bit. I do it all until I fall into bed exhausted. Falling into bed exhausted feels right to me. The activity feels good, healthy, a sign that all is moving forward, that I am recovering.
And without fail, thanks to wheat-free living I am up with the sun 7 hours later.
But at my check up on Friday, my doctor urged me to rethink this plan and to indulge in sleep a little sooner. To allow myself to really recharge. To turn the lights off sooner. So last night, with Max and his best buddy Jake asleep in the living room at 9, I fell into bed myself with a good book. By 10:30 I too was off to dreamland.
And now its the morning. Its still so very early but I can't sleep one minute more.
The deep dark silent morning of approaching winter surrounds me. How different from the mornings in spring, when the sun rises earlier each day, the birds pulling him up out of bed with their songs. This morning is so still and rich and lazy. Like Oaxacan hot chocolate, I want to drink it in.
I cannot turn the lights in the house on. It would feel rude. So I sit here now with candles lit. The street lights still flicker down the street with the same golden light.
Unlike the evenings when I buzz with activity, now all I want to do is sit. Sit and take in the silence. Wrap the velvety coat of November mornings around me and just be still.
After a month of near manic activity, I am ready for a month of quiet reflection, a simple social calendar and getting back to the basics. I need a month to reconnect with Max, the sweep the floors, and to find a new gluten free bread recipe.
Today we "fall back", let the clocks stand still for an hour as we finally embrace the dark of the changing season. I am ready now. I think I am finally ready.
October was a busy, almost manic month here at our house. There was lots of activity. Camping to pack for, parties to prepare for, festivals to travel to, house guests to host, weddings to attend. I am exhausted just thinking about all that we did in October.
October used to be my favorite month. Its the month when the weather actually starts to turn, when sweaters come out. Of Sunday with golden light and bright blue skies. Its the month when soups are appealing again. When the days grow shorter and we stay in with our loved ones, cuddling up against the coming cold.
Now I struggle with October. It is the lonliest of months for me.
Juan and I were married in October. We have so many memories of years of wonderful Octobers, of being new parents, of traveling to Mexico, of carving pumpkins and hosting parties, of decorating for the fall holidays. I loved rushing home in the darkening October days to rake leaves with him, or sit down to a spicy stew cooked just for me. October reminds me of all the things I cherished about being his wife, that I appreciated about our partnership in better days. And so now, even years later, even with all the water under our bridge, October without Juan feels a bit empty and hollow to me.
Its true that I still really miss him.
So I spent the month distracting myself. I did it on purpose--making sure that every weekend we had something to look forward to, an event that would allow me to build new memories of October, new associations with the beautiful life Max and I have built in the last few years. I surrounded myself with events and people that would allow me to hold October with happiness again. And it mostly worked. Each year that we pass through this month I feel a little less melancholy. This month I mostly felt blessed and happy. My focus was on my present not my past. I felt that I was exactly where I needed to be, for better or for worse.
But in the letting go of October I need to admit that I still feel the loss of him--need to face it so it doesn't haunt me like a ghost left over from Halloween.
My dear friend Stephen likes to remind me that the mark of a truly intelligent human being is that she can hold two completely contradictory ideas in her mind and know them both to be true.
I have said over and over again (and meant it every time) that the loss of my marriage was one of the most important events in my life, that it was a test of fire that shaped me in a truly positive way, that it provided the kick in the pants I needed to wrestle with some really mean demons and that as a result I am a much healthier and happier person. This was a journey I had to take and I am so glad to be on the other side of the mountain,
But tonight I acknowledge that even as I am blissfully happy in my new life, I am also terribly sad to have lost the old one. That while I am so happy to be on the road I am on, I sometimes wish I never had to go here. That I love where I am, but hate how I got here. That I wish I could share this magical place where I reside right now with him.
