enjoy Fall 2007 by having one new and fulfilling experience in October, November, and December

My new and fulfilling experience for December is not particularly tangible, discreet, or even describable, but it is new, and definitely fulfilling. It involves the ongoing, internal process of taking inventory of my life, my assets and direction. It involves assessing my personal and creative limits, the lines I have so far been unwilling or unable to cross, and making a promise to cross those lines, test and surpass those limits.

2008 will be the first “new year” in a long time that feels like a threshhold, a chance to begin again with renewed direction and a strong sense of not only who I am, but who I am capable of being. This time, as I clink my glass with loved ones, the horizon takes on new import, as both a destination and a barrier to be crossed, surpassed, or conquered. I’m poised for an adventure, a journey perhaps, not without a certain amount of trepidation, mind you, but with curiosity and zeal.

Happy New year, 43Ters everywhere. May the new year bring adventure for you as well.

My birthday gift this year to my SO was two tickets to a live performance of Jethro Tull with the Calliandra String Quartet at a fairly intimate local venue. So last night we left our children with a kidsitter and indulged in an adults-only evening for two. Our seats were great. I was a bit under the weather, sporting a fever and minor chills, so we cuddled under my SO’s coat, which only added to the intimacy of the event. The concert was excellent, heavy on flute and strings, with some innovative arrangements of great old songs and a few new ones, and a cover or two thrown in for good measure. Ian was his old quippy self, and it was clear that he was enjoying himself as much as we were. We had never seen JT live before, hence the “new,” and we enjoyed some sweet, rare time together. Chills or not, I call that “fulfilling.”

I funded my first Kiva microloan today! This won’t be the last, I’m sure. The recipient was Neida Elizabeth González Salas in Monterrey, Nuevo León. With this loan Nedia will be able to purchase a new and bigger stove for her restaurant,to be able to make more food in the same amount of time, and she will also purchase tables and chaires so that her clients can sit while Nedia makes their order. Neida will use the income from her restaurant to support herself and her son.

Definitely new and definitely fulfilling. It’s a small act, but it feels great. On to December!

This was the kickoff quote for today’s CPAC Walk for the Homeless. The weather was perfect, the foliage gorgeous, and we were in the mood to enjoy it all, while walking for a great cause. The walk raised $13,700 for the local Beth-el Shelter, and heightened local public awareness on the plight of homelessness. Afterward, my friend and I toured the shelter with the Director, met some of the residents, and gained some serious knowledge regarding the great need out there for food, supplies, and most of all, volunteers. It was a fulfilling and enlightening way to round out the month, and a great time, too.

The most fulfilling experience of October was the bold move of jettisoning SO and children for the weekend for a much-needed writer’s getaway with my lover, the laptop. I drove to Montpelier, in all its Autumnal splendor, even though the foliage was dimmed a bit by lack of rain. I was excited but also worried. What if I wasted my weekend? Writer’s block, procrastination, lack of direction or fortitude, these demons could all pull me down, cause me to crash my writer’s spirit into any one of those majestic Green Mountains. But I surprised myself. I lived like the writer I am finally believing I am, spending most of the weekend actually writing. Saturday morning I sat outside a cafe in the best part of the day, drinking coffee and typing contentedly, caffeinatedly, into my laptop, stopping occasionally for a little freehand foray into my journal. I conversed in English, and a little French, with a poet from Montreal, then, when the mountain clouds opened and poured rain heavily for the afternoon into evening, I retreated to my meager cabin in Marshfield, no phone service or internet, to write and write and write some more. The next morning the air was fresh and cool, the leaves more brilliant for the rain. I opened my door, looked down into mist rising from the Winooski valley, and thought about my wild and precious life. I’m back to the grind now, but I am thankful for the chance to spread my wings and fly solo for a bit, for the people who made that flight possible, and for myself, for daring to lift my arms, make a running start, and trust in the currents to carry me.