7 min read

The Cosmos and the Chaos

With a New Year possibly comes the winds of personal change

It’s not writing for you that’s the problem – it’s that I keep saying “I’ll edit and post this later,” after I’ve written, then “later” never comes. So, I’m giving this a quick once-over and posting. If you find typos or errands? Don’t tell me. I’m sure we can both live with a tiny oversight that affects neither of our lives. Namaste. And I want to add pretty pictures, but deadlines await. You get just words today, friends.

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I have a deadline today so I shouldn’t be doing this, but sometimes thoughts are like being in a ballroom where balls never stop bouncing. Not until you put ‘em down, like words to the page.

I won’t blow smoke up your ass, as my father always said, and claim that I’ve been soooooooo busy and that’s why I haven’t been writing.

Busy is a part of it. I mean, let’s not pretend that most of us aren’t overworked and underpaid. But I got time to watch Beat Bobby Flay, too, right? So, it’s not all that.

Frankly, life has been a crappy ride for a while now. My luck hasn’t been great, my anxiety has been high, and the last thing I needed was to shine a light on that by way of sharing it with you or anyone.

And I can’t pretend I’ll get regular at writing for you, either, because we’re coming up on my 19th year of blogging, and I’m too old and too wise to tell anyone lies about how THIS is the time I somehow get a magic time-management skill set that makes me able to divvy up my life for sharing with everyone.

Until THIS pays like the rest of my work does, it’ll always have to come last – especially in this economy. I hate that, but it’s reality.

ANYHOO. I have come to the “it is what it is” chapter of life.

I know, I know — that phrase is supposed to be shunned by talented writers. But there’s a reason we say it: because it says what it means more simply than any other expression can.

So, what is the “it is what it is” chapter of life?

It’s a time when I don’t fight the current. If I feel like chilling, I’ll do that. I’m tired of the whatever-it-takes mentality and the endless fighting for survival that so many people are stuck in right now. I’m paying the bills and just taking the day as it comes. I’m not guilt-tripping myself for living how I want right now, versus a life filled only with obligations.

A partly cloudy sunset has wispy clouds radiating out from the sunset. There’s a pale blue sky darkening with the wispy clouds but the colours of the sunset are all smudged together — pink, yellow, orange, purple, white, and even green
This is the only photo I’m uploading for time’s sake, but it’s a shot I took this week — Sunday night, before ‘Good Things Monday’ kicked in — and it’s gone a wee bit nuts for me on Mastodon and was used on the local news as the “weather shot of the day.” Sometimes nature is a wild old lady who likes to play with colours. This is the most colourful sunset I’ve ever seen, including all my travels.

But there are limits to how well opting out of obligation plays out in life, aren’t there? Sooner or later, priorities need addressing.

Just before the New Year, I decided to paint half my living space with this wicked shade of turquoise gifted to me by friends who had leftovers. It sparked a total home reorganizing and deep cleaning. As of Monday, I finally finished up, taking the last thing to the curb. All told, my 650-square-foot home lost 4 by 4 by 5 feet of clutter.

And I rearranged my living room – shifting a large cabinet over by just 6 inches allowed me to try everything at a slightly new angle, and it has completely changed how livable I find my home. I’m gobsmacked with glee.

Is it perfect? It is not. Is it the best I can do with what I have? Darn tootin’.

I should really write an entire other post sometime, about what a powerful thing painting this place morphed into, because it’s like I’m actually choosing to be here now and saying THIS is my home.

As a recovering nomad, that’s a huge deal. I’m not between places. I’m right where I mean to be.

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I’d chatted with a friend in the first week of the year about my throwing my hat in the ring for an interesting opportunity.

BEGIN SEGUE:
I have no idea how that is shaking down, or if it even will, but I also don’t care. I feel like, if it’s meant to happen, then it will – I did my best. And I’m of the opinion that we don’t always know what it is we want, but we know the outcome we are seeking.

What do I mean? Well, I know I want to earn X amount, and I’d like it to be through crafting words for a living, but beyond that, I’m open to how it unfolds, because I know there are far more avenues for achieving that outcome than I may be aware of.

/ END SEGUE

So, that chat with the friend. When she asked how The Thing I’m Being Vague About was going, it led to us chatting about my domestic endeavours to make my home a place I love again. My reasoning, I explained, had partly to do with the new year.

In some cultures — and I can’t recall which because Woman Of A Certain Age — the belief is you need a clean home to start the year.

Preferably decluttered. Because a cluttered home has no room for the Good Things™ that might come your way.

I was cleaning up, I said, because I felt like my luck would change and I would have a clean, organized home to help facilitate the work I’d need to do for having success. Whether that was The Opportunity™ or something else made no difference to me because I’ve learned to believe as the Greeks do, that making plans is a prelude to making the Gods laugh.

After all, when I moved to Victoria in 2012, my thinking was that I wanted to do something abroad and I had no idea what, where, or how. I was just open to it. I could never have anticipated that I’d be travelling around the world three years later for just shy of a half-decade of adventures.

I want good things. I am open to what they might be. The rest is maktub, as they say in The Alchemist. Fate goes as it will. I’m just here to nudge it in the right direction.

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There I was, Monday, taking out the last of the stuff I’d “decluttered.”

Project: Ready for the Good Shit™ was a GO.

Well, Monday afternoon, a courier buzzes, and there’s a lovely box from one of my favourite wineries in British Columbia. Inside, three bottles of delicious elixirs from VinAmite Cellars, two cookbooks, a cheese-serving set with a slate, a two-ounce bag of morel mushrooms, and truffle salt. I was expecting a small gift but it blew my tiny mind. How lovely to be held in such high esteem!

An hour later, the handyman comes by to take a look at my stove that’s been acting wonky. There’ve been three service visits already and my expectations are low, because the stove and oven do still work, but not optimally.

Enter Antonio, here to assess.

 "You say it's not working? It's not working! Why they wanna test it when you say it already? We gonna get you a new oven."

Then management called him to say the plan was to get a working oven from the empty suite next door to my apartment. He’s going “Well, it’s full-size. It’s nice. She rented because nice stove.” Antonio the advocate.

But I was fine with plan B, as long as I’d be able to cook without intrigue.

Then, yesterday (Tuesday) morning, the phone rings at 9:30. “Hello! It’s Antonio! I have a new oven for you. We’re coming in 30 minutes, okay?”

And that’s when I found out he meant new-new. Brand-spankin’. Peeling-off-blue-plastic kinda new. Full size! Five burners! Stainless steel! And even with someone’s-turning-50-this-year nice, big white high-contrast lettering on the dials.

Christmas came late, baby!

So later, after the new-stove bliss chilled out, I did a video-conference health chat with a doctor, because I’m trying to get into a local clinic to investigate some issues, as it’s been impossible to get back to the Mainland to see my own physician.

The conversation goes well, the doctor is empathetic and kind, and she’s in agreement – I need an in-person visit with their clinic. “But it’s very busy, it might take weeks, and you might be looking at close to March before you can get in.”

Okay, but sign me up. I want in, Doc. So, the call ends, that’s that, someone will be in touch today to book with me. Overnight, I was back to wondering if there’s a way I’ll have the time and money to travel to Vancouver to see my guy.

This morning, the call comes.

“I’m sorry we’re busy, but the soonest we can get you in is Friday at 2.”

Friday, as in two days from now? Not six weeks? Sure! I’m in! I actually laughed out loud as I hung up. VICTORY.

But, before that, as I checked for the email the guy asked me to look for before he ended our call, I see a letter from a client – the same client who told me last week he had no work for me and expected he wouldn’t, until at least March.

Client now writes that he wants one article a week — ongoing. Indefinitely.

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Now, I’m no mumbo-jumbo new-agey “the planets are aligning” kinda gal, but I couldn’t have scripted any of this better.

I don’t know what it is about deciding that this is how you need things to go, and this is what you’re willing to do to commit to it, but there’s something about setting intentions that just seems to work.

If you’re looking for a sign that the decluttering project you keep putting off is a good one to get cracking on?

I’m here with a big-ass neon blinking sign telling you to go kick your home’s butt and make it the place you’ve been needing it to be. Dispose of your clutter. Give clothes to those who need them. Give excess kitchen things to folks who are starting out or starting over. Post open, unneeded food on your Facebook “buy nothing” pages for those in your neighbourhood who might be facing hard times and can use that bag of rice you opened and never finished.

You’ll send good things out into the world for those who can use them and make space in your home to welcome goodness into your life.

Or at least it seems to be working for me. Here’s hoping I stay the path!

Happy belated New Year, folks.

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