Tiptoeing Around

In the Woods 2008

I came across this clipping I'd saved, "Autobiography in Five Short Chapters" written by Portia Nelson, 1921-2001. It's also known by the title "Holes in my Sidewalk.

I

I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I fall in.

I am lost... I am helpless... It isn't my fault.

It takes forever to find a way out.

II

I walk down the same street.

There is a hole in the sidewalk.

I pretend I don't see it.

I fall in again.

I can't believe I'm in the same place again, but it isn't my fault.

It still takes a long time to get out.

III

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I see it is there.

I still fall in... it's a habit.

My eyes are open... I know where I am... It is my fault.

I get out immediately.

IV

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I walk around it.

V

I walk down another street.

Although theres no city sidewalks here, theres plenty of "holes" to fall in as I tiptoe my way around lately. I think I'm somewhere between number II and III.

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Wednesday afternoon the county truck pulled in to ask if we still wanted the dirt that we'd asked for last year. Ya Hoo!! For now, we took 1 load for the garden area and 2 more got dumped in a low spot off the driveway. Now it's gettin' out there to spread it around. There's a house with horses close by so manure won't be hard to come by. There'll be something grown there next year, hook or crook.

What If Ya Try and Work It Out on a Block?

Here's the pile of "to do's" but

theres nothing like undertaking something else...

especially something like this, giving these babies up... there's never a good time, a right time, a strong time and honest to God, I'm hooked and very afraid. To put my cigarette addiction out on the internet is like walking naked onto a stage, but there it is.... I did it..... and I'm mourning them before I even quit!

It's also becoming clear to me that I'm mourning more than that... my family and friends miles away, my life in the city, the cultural socialization and urban stimulation left behind. The North is a harsh place and I'm not on vacation anymore. 17 miles to town is no joke, the "Family Dollar" is not Macys, there's no such thing as pizza delivery and a good library book is intraloan with a 2 week wait. No one wears a skirt, the closest fabric store is 40 miles away and when its dark, its scary dark... you can't see your hand in front of your face. I wake up sometimes and wonder just where I'm at. Honestly it's good, I wouldn't change it ( maybe the library) but I'm still dealing with the sad around the edges. There's other things too, but a another story, another time....

So what if I put it all in one basket... one block... one goal... one redemption... one cigarette... one sorrow... instead of trying to carry the world on my shoulders... just deal with my losses one stitch at a time? Especailly this cigarette thing, what if I work it out on this black block ?