Part I. THE DIAGNOSIS
I am having a hard time adjusting. I did it to myself.
At the farm, each day unfolds as a massive unstructured expanse in front of me. I watch from the window, it's probably 7:30 am. I have so much to do and nothing to do. I've created this time and space for myself to be better and now I sit in the middle of our unfinished house waiting for something to happen. But there are few external forces here. Telephones don't ring, and people don't stop by. There are no meetings where I'm nodding and saying yes. Yes, yes yes! Oh the bobble head I used to be! The days of hustling. Do I miss them? It doesn't matter because we can't go back.
The quiet in my mind becomes wildly uncomfortable. I call my astrologer. She tells me to confront the dragons in the basement.
Part II. AVOIDING CONFRONTING THE DRAGONS IN THE BASEMENT
In an effort to distract myself I ordered a small box of roses last week and had Fallon ship them to the farm. This would be the external force! A catalyst to propel me into a mode of productivity where I could face the mounting list of farm tasks that hover around me. Where I could escape Enya on repeat.
One time when I was really struggling with depression and anxiety I saw a homeopathist. She asked me a number of questions about what moments made me feel the happiest. It was a difficult question for me because at the time I was working in the art world and nothing was happy for me there. But now it is simple to answer - I am happiest when I am alone with flowers.
The activity of making flowers just for my own enjoyment is very critical to my work, I don't know if I've ever talked about it here. In my brain it feels like I am making a symphony. I am myself and I feel close to freedom. It feels like a ringing or striking a chord. A surge: it is sharp and clear and focused.
I felt a little better, and then I got to escape to the city.
Part III. THE OTHER SIDE
Another box of roses are due to arrive any minute, the last box of the year. I'm back in the city now, sitting up in my office, thinking about Worlds End....how tenuous it feels; my suspended reality. Last night I forgot how to hail a cab and experienced another wallop of anxiety on 3rd Avenue. Obviously what I am trying to tell you is that I'm stuck between two worlds. I am smiling when I am writing now. There must be an appropriate 80's anthem for this moment.
Anyway, the roses. The rains came to Petaluma Sunday or Monday and we are to receive what was snipped right before they blew in. I like to imagine these roses somewhere dark in their wax tissuey shrouds...stacked on the back of a fed ex truck, bouncing through the streets of Brooklyn. Sealed in their box, neither dead nor alive.
It's 11:53am now. Where is fedex anyway?
