greenstorm (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greenstorm) wrote2022-04-10 12:51 pm
greenstorm) wrote2022-04-10 12:51 pm
Entry tags:
- breakup,
- garden,
- me,
- nd,
- relationship,
- relationships,
- seeds,
- social,
- spring
Umbilicus
With Tucker gone and work back to the office all my socializing is occurring off of Threshold in public spaces. There's a very real shift in how I feel and behave in private already; I'm more pushy, more contrarian; my thinking is more nimble but has more momentum: it's harder to stop or turn a thought. I'm starting to think internally using my own mind again, if that makes any sense, rather than the hybrid thinking/socializing tool my mind had become. I have more patience and time for some of my inner workings and so they subside into mystery and I can allow them to do so: I can sit and wait out something that's occurring in the back of my mind even when I have no knowledge of what it is and I can follow instincts without first identifying and then analyzing them.
I'm going more wordless now for awhile and my mind feels like a shape moving through pondweeds in murky water. I can feel the stirring of its motion but who really knows what's in there?
I think that's ok for now. It's the thing I was worried about, losing touch with humanity. Not long ago I wrote that I have a foot in both worlds, plant and human, and that's one of the reasons I feel so inhuman. Now I have maybe just a toe in the human world and the concept of inhuman, well, that's outside my current frame. Maybe the marker of a human is wondering if they're human enough.
Meanwhile my cat loves me more. He's been climbing onto the back of the sofa, hugging my shoulder, and purring for hours. From this I learn that I'm deeply conflicted about one of my strongest recieving love languages, which is demonstrations of joy in my presence. On the one hand making someone happy is such a joy; on the other it's a demand where I feel that if I fail I'm deeply impacting someone else's happiness. Of course that's not how it works but it's interesting to see it so clearly laid out; Whiskey is a great teacher that way because my interactions with him show up my reactions more clearly than the complications of reactions to humans. I know that what's going on is, in fact, all me.
Yesterday was a very social day. The landrace gardening zoom call was in the morning and I was a bit of a focal point of that. Over noon was the local seed swap at the library; the last seed swap I attended there was my last pre-covid social event years ago. I chatted with one of the big gardeners from a gardener family, with one of local herbalist friends, and with a person doing the local CSA (which sold out in 11 hours). It was nice, I got some tomato seeds out there, I got some locally grown seeds and some seeds to put in the garden here even if I don't stay, and we're going to have another one closer to the last frost in late May. I'm going to plant a couple more tomatoes to give away there.
I also reconnected with my neighbour, the one the dog bit, and gave them some eggs. Apparently he likes duck eggs so I gave him a bunch of those. He's seen the fox that lives at his place and there's also a big mink that I don't think has eaten many of my animals but it's something to keep an eye on.
Despite so many contacts and so many events yesterday it felt more spacious than expected. Probably not making time to socialize closely or intimately with anyone helped there. When I woke up the light was strange so I looked out and it had snowed: the sun was rising in a clear bright sky and reflecting off the fresh coat of white everywhere. It was nice to be able to go back to bed and ignore it for a couple hours.
Now I have today for cooking, for thinking, for petting my cat, for planting tomatoes and peppers, and maybe for setting up the pig fence.
Maybe the activities sound the same as normal but they don't quite feel the same. I'm doing them while I float, submerged, beneath my surface. We will see what comes next.
I'm going more wordless now for awhile and my mind feels like a shape moving through pondweeds in murky water. I can feel the stirring of its motion but who really knows what's in there?
I think that's ok for now. It's the thing I was worried about, losing touch with humanity. Not long ago I wrote that I have a foot in both worlds, plant and human, and that's one of the reasons I feel so inhuman. Now I have maybe just a toe in the human world and the concept of inhuman, well, that's outside my current frame. Maybe the marker of a human is wondering if they're human enough.
Meanwhile my cat loves me more. He's been climbing onto the back of the sofa, hugging my shoulder, and purring for hours. From this I learn that I'm deeply conflicted about one of my strongest recieving love languages, which is demonstrations of joy in my presence. On the one hand making someone happy is such a joy; on the other it's a demand where I feel that if I fail I'm deeply impacting someone else's happiness. Of course that's not how it works but it's interesting to see it so clearly laid out; Whiskey is a great teacher that way because my interactions with him show up my reactions more clearly than the complications of reactions to humans. I know that what's going on is, in fact, all me.
Yesterday was a very social day. The landrace gardening zoom call was in the morning and I was a bit of a focal point of that. Over noon was the local seed swap at the library; the last seed swap I attended there was my last pre-covid social event years ago. I chatted with one of the big gardeners from a gardener family, with one of local herbalist friends, and with a person doing the local CSA (which sold out in 11 hours). It was nice, I got some tomato seeds out there, I got some locally grown seeds and some seeds to put in the garden here even if I don't stay, and we're going to have another one closer to the last frost in late May. I'm going to plant a couple more tomatoes to give away there.
I also reconnected with my neighbour, the one the dog bit, and gave them some eggs. Apparently he likes duck eggs so I gave him a bunch of those. He's seen the fox that lives at his place and there's also a big mink that I don't think has eaten many of my animals but it's something to keep an eye on.
Despite so many contacts and so many events yesterday it felt more spacious than expected. Probably not making time to socialize closely or intimately with anyone helped there. When I woke up the light was strange so I looked out and it had snowed: the sun was rising in a clear bright sky and reflecting off the fresh coat of white everywhere. It was nice to be able to go back to bed and ignore it for a couple hours.
Now I have today for cooking, for thinking, for petting my cat, for planting tomatoes and peppers, and maybe for setting up the pig fence.
Maybe the activities sound the same as normal but they don't quite feel the same. I'm doing them while I float, submerged, beneath my surface. We will see what comes next.