It has been some time since my life has been as unsettled as it is now. We are moving – or so I think. We close on our new home in mid-July. I am trying to figure out the logistics of getting my new dog. We are looking to sell our home. Lots of new things to think about – finances, fences, roof repair, bathroom plumbing. I thought that was behind me, really. I did not think I would ever leave Bedlam Farm and many people wonder about it.
In some ways, Bedlam Farm was a fort for me, insulating me from my personal troubles, my fear, other people, the terrifying prospect of intimacy with another human being – the point of life, I think. So I found a beautiful 90-acre island and went mad, as disconnected men leave their world and families end up on islands tend to do. There are no forts, of course, that keep out the world, no islands in our time. Just as money does not make people secure, there is no hiding from life. It will find you, wherever you are, and it does not really care how much money you have in your IRA’s.
The task, I think, is to live meaningfully for as long as you can, as as deeply as you can. This is the spiritual work, I think, to understand you are not alone, that there is nothing fear and anger can do for you besides make you unhappy. It simply brings nothing good. To have good things in your life, you have to close your eyes, take a breath, take the plunge. And to trust in these things, many still new to me. Intimacy is not frightening, but nourishing, vital. Trust is a sacred work. To trust your own decisions. To trust your ability to take care of yourself and your life. Do not put your e-mail in books, they say, as dangerous people will seek you out. Do not hold art shows in your home and let people in. Do not blog about your life. Give up on love, but not on your IRA’s. Fear you body and check it all the time. Check each item in your grocery receipt to make sure you are not cheated.
On this weekend, I am aware of remembering the soldiers and heroes. I am also aware of remembering how difficult it is to be open, how painful to trust yourself and your life, and the people around you. How important. This, I think, is one fundamental reason why my move is important. It will not change my life. It will not make my problems go away. It will not be a perfect life, any more than this farm with animals is or could be a perfect life. But it requires me to continue the process of being open. Of trusting the future. Of sharing my life. Of looking at the world in a different way, a new way. Just as spirituality is a constant work, so is creativity. New ideas, new images, new sights, people and challenges are important. They lead to things. They grow and deepen the stories of our lives. It was almost two years ago that I drove by a farmhouse and saw an old pony standing in front of a collapsed barn and I pulled in to take a photo. That visit has changed my life. The New Bedlam Farm is no fort, it is right in the middle of life. Can’t wait. You cannot escape life, only stand in awe of it and the way it finds you, if you let it.