The Chronicles, No. 4

Did I tell you I'm in another play?  I have small roles (yes, two different characters in the same play), but the commitment to the effort - and the rehearsal schedule is much the same as it was for The Foreigner.  I am enjoying the creative process as well as the camaraderie. The play is Arthur Miller's The Crucible.  Whereas The Foreigner was a comedic farce, The Crucible is anything but.  Written by Miller in the 1950s, The Crucible sought to highlight the hypocrisy of McCarthyism.  If you're local, the play will be performed at the Bradley Playhouse the last two weekends of October.

Did I tell you that our B&B project is most likely being put on hold?  It's taken the better part of the last year to gather all the information we needed to make an informed decision.  The crux of the matter is that the revenue we can reasonably predict isn't sufficient enough to cover the amount of debt we'd have to assume.  And while we could make a go of it and even have a decent chance of overcoming obstacles, we'd rather be conservative and not jeopardize the prospect of retaining the Farm for years and generations to come.  The plan now is to investigate small renovations that can be done to get us onto the property.  Stay tuned.

Did I tell you about the headstone we're in the process of getting for Leo?  Linda and I met with a local grave marker company a week or two ago.  We're going to put a marker in the small, ancient cemetery here in Pomfret where many of Linda's family's ancestors are buried.  The cemetery is so tiny and full that there are few actual procedures for putting in a new gravestone.  Because we just have ashes and not body to bury, we're able to put our marker in without having to get special permission.  We're grateful that we'll have a place to see Leonardo Mathewson Ring's name, glad to have him with family, and glad to recognize him in some form of permanence, even if his physical presence with us was short.  We miss him everyday, feel his absence and yet in that absence his presence is perhaps stronger.

Did I tell you that Max moved up to pre-school?  He turns three in November and continues to be a bottomless source of joy and amazement.  I'll spare you the cloying doting of an adoring father, except to say he's a constant wonder and a blessing beyond words.  The only thing we desire for him is a sibling.  Unfortunately that's not such an easy prospect.  Pregnancy, while possible, isn't something we can count on and adoption is expensive.  This said, we're trying to get our heads around undertaking the latter.  We'll need help and asking for it doesn't come easy.  But not asking means not receiving.

And what about that running?  I am still at it, but I do admit to a recent bout of laziness.  I got sick a few weeks ago and then some unseasonable humidity deterred me from making a swift return.  I am not concerned that I'll remain sidelined.  I get too much from it to remain idle.  And I'm still an avid Five Finger/Minimalist footwear guy.  In recent months, I've noticed more and more discussion about the practice.  Friends of mine who were skeptics are now donning the freaky feet, reveling, childlike, in the sensation of the ground beneath their soles.

Quiet Corner living is, well, quiet and still.  When we moved here from Salem, Massachusetts, we had our reservations, but with each passing month, and now a year's worth of seasons, we can confidently express just how happy we are to have made the move.  I am still in the hunt for a job that meets both our financial needs and my personal set of values, but thanks to Linda, we're keeping our heads, perhaps even our shoulders above water.

I haven't been writing much lately and I wish I had something that could serve as an excuse.  I did a lot of 'talking' over the last year or so.  Sometimes I'd sit down to write and feel that I'd already said what I was thinking.  I didn't want to bore readers with what I felt was simply a rehashing of things already said.  I felt sensitive that much of what I wrote felt as if I was making judgements about how others chose to live their lives.  Frankly, I didn't want to hear myself think anymore.  Which brings me to my last thought.

There's been enough upheaval in my life in the past years to cause me to take stock.  I've experienced loss on many fronts (a child, a job, a condo, a good credit score) and yet I feel as though I've gained much more than I've 'lost' through the experience.  In my efforts to make sense of things, I've embraced some Buddhist philosophies.  (I am not a practicing Buddhist, nor do I represent that I have anything close to a deep understanding of the practice.)  What I read about the nature of suffering, the laws of impermanence, and the mighty and dangerous ego resonates deeply.  When I watch my mind and can see the ego focusing on past regrets or future fantasy, I feel more equipped to recognize what's happening in those thoughts and more swiftly I'm able return to the present.  When I drive, I try to just drive.  When I wash the dishes I try to just wash the dishes.  You may not be surprised by how incredibly difficult it is just to be wholly present.