The Middle Place

The rain against my window confirms my decision that I would take a break from the new house today.  I need to focus a little energy on my existing home and the laundry, dishes, and clutter that have taken a foothold in the chaos that seems to grip this living in-between place.
I think I have lived much of my adult life in a state of in-between, counting days not in hash marks on the calendar or in memories created, but checking off hours according to some internal clock that is only focused on the next step.  Due dates, move in days, birthdays, paydays, there always seems to be something tugging at that place of calm and dragging me into a sense of frenzied anticipation.  I've know it for a long time, and attempted to live in the moment, savor the laughter and the simplicity of just being, but deep down inside I feel the constant tug of just finishing the latest project, or packing for the trip, or arriving at that much anticipated event.  The let down never ends, because in this way of living, you are never finished.  I don't want to live like this anymore.
I planted a garden after I moved here, and over the course of many years it has become a huge masterful statement of how the beauty of nature and the love of a human can combine into something magnificent.  I will be leaving it behind, but plan to haul up cuttings and bucket-full's of perennials to the new house where the ground is just waiting to be violated by my itchy green thumbs.  The garden is my place of zen.  I visually reap in the bounty of my efforts, watching the plants struggle to take hold and then burst from the earth.  I can sit in the garden for hours, blissfully weeding the bad from the good, knowing exactly how much I have completed and how much I have left to do.  It cycles with me, soaking up the cavern of gray rainwater on days of rest, then using that store of exuberance when the sun blinds as you open your eyes to the miracle of light and life.

My garden, Summer 2011

  It is in those garden minutes that I am not hurried, I am not haunted by the frantic pace that I have set for myself and the never ending to-do list that ticks away the moments that should be spent living.  I am hoping to find more of the garden zen place in my day to day life.  It isn't just about stopping to smell the roses, because I do that. It is about living in the moment and being grateful for the time that I have to stop and appreciate the world around me.  I need to let the internal clock go.  I need to quit judging my days by what tasks I have completed, and assess them instead by how much laughter I've shared and how many memories I will be a part of.  No one would want their epitaph to read "She got a lot done."  Today, I am going to live in the middle place rather then focus on the goal, because the middle place is where we spend most of our lives, and if we can be content there- I think the joy will follow.  More then anything, I want to the new house to be a place of calm, of laughter, and a guardian of joy for our family and all who visit there. I guess that is what will make it our home.