Love

In general my sisters think I'm nuts. They come to expect me to think and say things differently from how they would think or say things. And I've come to expect them to react to me in that "she's crazy" kind of way. So it came as no surprise to me when my sister, Lianna, called me up over the weekend and reminded me just how crazy she thinks I am. A little more surprising was the reason why she was calling.

Several years ago, when I first moved to this island, I met Jason. We met right away, because you pretty much know everyone in town the moment you step off the boat. We started dating about five months after I moved here, and before long I was in love! My sisters know that I've always been on the lookout for love. They've watched me cry of a broken heart when I thought I had found something and it turned out to be fake. So when I found myself in love with Jason I didn't want to take any chances. I immediately had both of our astrological charts read. The chart reading predicted a match made in heaven. So, a year or so later, when I was ready for the next step, but didn't see it coming any time soon, I called upon my friend Jane to help me organize my life to welcome love. Right away she suggested rearranging the rooms in my apartment so that it was very obviously set up for two people: myself and my honey! I did. I moved my bed to the middle of a wall so that both sides were easily accessible and I put a nightstand and a lamp on each side. I took down all of my photos of single women and replaced them with pictures of couples or of groups of people. I went through my dishes and made sure I had at least two of everything. It may sound crazy, but before long Jason proposed. I'm living proof that this stuff really works!

So, fast forward a few years to this past Sunday morning. I picked up the phone and was greeted by this: "You're crazy, but I'm trying it anyways." My little sister. Almost 25 years old, totally beautiful, funny, a whole lot of fun, and incredibly successful. She's quite a package, so it stands to question, why is she single? Other than the fact that she's completely capable of taking total care of herself, thank you very much, and that most men her age are probably scared shitless when they are in her powerful presence, it's a good question, and one that I've often scratched my head over. At some point recently we were talking about this very question and I brought up the idea that she just hasn't made space for a partner in her life. Silence followed on the other end of the line, and I could tell that she was wondering whether or not to delve into the new age philosophy I was about to impart. "What do you mean?" she asked, not sure if she wanted to know. So I relayed the wisdom that was passed to me: make sure your physical space is ready to be shared with another person. Two nightstands, two lamps, two pillows, two of everything. She didn't listen. At least not right away. Instead, she said I was crazy.

There really is something to the idea of making space in your life for what it is that you want. I think of it as putting my dreams out into the universe and then beginning to live my life as if my wishes were already coming true. As long as I'm focused and have a clear idea of what my wish really is, it works. That's what we're doing right now with the house and our land. Years before we'll be able to move in, I'm working on the land. I'm envisioning just how the space around our house and radiating from the house will be used to grow vegetables, flowers, berries, fruits, and nuts and to raise animals. In my head it's taking shape, so in my practices I'm already working on it.

Once upon a time our property was farmed. There's evidence of this all over the place: old twisted apple trees, foundation stones buried under six inches of soil, rusty medal tools and hinges scattered throughout the garden spots. My dream is to farm it again. Over the last few years I've been building the soil in the big garden plots, and last year I learned how to prune apple trees. And then last summer I went and worked for a few days on a permaculture farm in Franklin, Maine, and I learned so much that my head was spinning (it still is). Now I have a new perspective on how to farm my land, and I'm obsessed! The very little I've learned about permaculture has turned my eyes towards the resources that are already on the property. Instead of cutting them down, the old cranky apple trees can be pruned and grafted on to in order to provide a full year of apples, apple sauce, apple cider and everything else apple. The overgrown blackberries growing on the edges of all of our forested spaces can be thinned and cut back, and then managed just twice a year. On the south side of the apple trees, and just underneath their canopies I can develop sheet-mulched beds full of asparagus and rhubarb. Growing up the trees I can plant hardy kiwi. Moving from the base of the tree and out into the full sun, deeply mulched beds will be filled with vegetables and flowers planted in guilds. My dreams are taking shape in my imagination and I'm taking the first steps to turning these dreams into reality.

It's a lot of work. Last weekend I spent hours up in the tippy-top of an apple tree, sawing branches and making tiny snips here and there. When the wind picked up and I began to feel nervous swaying in the branches, I went and helped Jason debark trees to prepare them for the sawmill. That was hard work. Three days later, I'm still sore all over! This is not glamorous work. I was wearing my dirty work clothes: ripped, grass-stained jeans over insulated underwear and a holey wool sweater. My hair was stuffed underneath a winter cap and my face and arms were covered with sweat and scratches. Nope. It's not easy and it's not beautiful, but I can't think of a time I've been happier. I can't imagine how I'd rather be spending my time (and trust me, I've thought about it a lot). It's real work and I'm working towards the dreams that are already real in my imagination.

The other night Jason and I watched the first three episodes of Mad Men. After the first episode Jason turned to me and said, "I am so uncomfortable. My jaw was clenched through the whole show." I felt the same way, all tense and uneasy. Other than the oppressive way in which women were treated in the 1950s, I found myself deeply disturbed by the unhappiness of the characters in the show. Don Draper is a highly successful Ad man working in New York City. He has a beautiful wife and two lovely children. A big tidy house, full of the best stuff. The third episode ends with his neighbor smiling, "We've got it all, huh?" Don Draper could do nothing but agree. He did have it all. Except happiness. Except love.

This is what I want to avoid. I don't want to get to my fifties and realize that I have everything that I thought I wanted, but none of the things that truly fill me with love and happiness. I'm trying to really pay attention to what it is that brings me joy and what I just can't live without. And I'm truly enjoying the processes that are taking me to the life that I know I will love living. I have a clear imagination of that life, and I'm filled with joy to be making the space in my life right now for that imagination to unfold in reality.

Lianna called again on Sunday to report that she found a very cute nightstand. She still thinks I'm a bit crazy, but that will probably never change! Now her hard work begins, but I bet she will love every bit of it!