"Bonnie, put down the phone, and pick up your pen."
I've always had an unhealthy addiction to my phone; I don't deny it, and my addiction can be justified (somewhat) by the social media accounts I run for a non-profit and a few businesses, as well as the online class I'm teaching. But not really. That's hardly why I pick up the phone. I'm constantly checking- for what- I can't even say entirely, but as I've been giving myself time to think about it, I know why I look. I'm looking for connection. I'm looking for a virtual substitution to all the hugs I've had to forego this year. I cannot tell you how hard it was to train myself not to reach out and hug people during these past eight months. I'm a "hug first ask for forgiveness later" type of person. I can't tell you how many handshakes I've mutated into hugs in my life. People need hugs, and I can usually feel their relief in the return squeeze once I've initiated it. I'm small, but I'm a good, solid hug. It's my thing. Thank goodness my son loves physical touch as much as I do, and he never turns down a hug from me. Thanks, Joe, you are truly a wonderful human.
I'm writing today primarily to break the technological bond I've created with my phone to fill the hole of human bonds. That sounds ridiculous once I've typed it, but it's true. I find I can't read a book like I used to; every page or so, I pick up my phone- and this habit ruins the reading experience. To read, you leave your reality and enter the book's reality. It's a wonderful suspension that I have enjoyed all of my life. If a book is good, I'll forego sleep to stay suspended in its world. I want that back. I need that back. I've just started a book I just know is one that can take me for hours into another connection. I struggled just the same with the first few sittings. Now, I turn my phone off to read. Honestly, nothing in the world matters as much as my own mental health. There. I typed it. Now to believe it. I can change nothing in the world around me other than my way of living and moving through it. Have to believe that one too.
I still have astronomical goals I set for myself. I would like to say I'll try to be a bit more realistic with them, but I don't think that is going to happen. I don't mind being alone. As a matter of fact, I very much prefer working alone, sleeping alone, and having large blocks of time in nature alone. But I am a creature of connection. I enjoy connecting with others, connecting others to each other, and others connecting to me. Through military leadership training I discovered I was a natural facilitator, and this role follows me to almost every work and social position.
What's ironic is that all my connections that I truly long for NEVER come through social media. The people I've lost touch with, even before the pandemic, oh, they're all on there, and lurk at the edges of my profiles, but we don't connect on there. I've honestly slowly replaced people with accounts of botanical art, plant memes, and inspirational quotes. People's baby pics and other repetitive media still slither in, but it's not connection. I don't even know what it is. It's a poor substitute for human interaction, that's for sure.
I find that any time I make a drastic sudden change, I'm not one for sticking to it. I'm better with the slow, sure, stepping away from a thing or habit. It's honestly the same way I learn. I would consider myself a slow learner, mostly because I do not feel confident about a thing until I am well practiced. Others have always called me a very fast learner, but my confidence far lags my mastery. I don't practice something confidently until I excel. I practice something slowly and methodically, and somewhat timidly, until I excel. That might sound like an odd distinction, but it is something I know about myself. I rarely give advice for the same reason, unless I am pointedly asked. I wasn't always like this. Part of it developed from a friendship and observing this friend's mannerisms. This friend isn't one to voice an opinion unless asked. But ironically, he is always being asked for advice or an opinion. When he gives it, there are tempering words, such as, 'in my experience' or 'from what I have seen' or my favorite 'most generally'. No, my favorite would have to be 'I don't know'. For one of the most knowledgeable in their field, that is a phrase he says often and without chagrin. There's not tempering it with- "But I'll find out for you!" or any guessing shills. He knows what he knows and that's all he'll tell you. But I digress.
the week- Monday. Yes indeed, there was genius in making Monday Woodworking Day. As winter progresses, the one day will turn into several. I am pleasantly surprised how much I love woodworking. It is a magical craft and skill that I am just in the very beginning stages of learning, and the possibilities are truly ENDLESS. Right now I build weaving looms under the guidance of long time craftsman Craig Vogel, owner of Lost Pond Looms. It has been a wonderful friendship from the start, from the music he has introduced me to, as well as talking about so many subjects and his wonderful teaching and encouragement as I learn this new craft. Truly friends: find mentors in multiple disciplines. Not only will they teach you their craft, but lessons from their life spill out and over in everyday conversations. Plus, the man has great taste in music and knows all the history to every musician that comes over the speaker. This connection is truly a blessing, and not only for a year such as 2020.
Woodworking gives me the same space to ponder things as weeding a garden does, There's usually one or more power tools running so we only talk during breaks. Today, I pondered about how at 38, I am picking up an entirely new craft, and the possibilities for future work and creation are inspiring. Then I began to think about all the different "jobs" I've had since I was 15, when my mom signed a slip so I could take my first legal job as a library clerk. I can't remember what I "wanted to be when I grew up" as a child. I thought about how odd it seems to me that we condition children that what they will be is usually a job title. Teacher. Firefighter. Lawyer. Doctor. I've never been good at defining one career for myself. And today, I realized why. I don't want to be one thing, or identified by the work I perform for money- at least, not anymore. Oh, I went through those years where I was proud to puff out my chest and say I worked for the federal government, or I was a horticulturist, or a teacher. But no, I don't want any of those titles to define me.
I have one goal in being, and that's a van (or bus) dwelling woman who travels and connects Veterans to resources, their own potential as farmers, and the public to them, as well as share my abilities and skills with them when I visit. I want to be armed with so many tricks up my sleeve and hats I can wear to be able to lend all of myself to the people I connect with on my journey- be it by digging the earth, framing out a door, crocheting a scarf, capturing a photograph, or crafting words to tell their stories. I strive to be a multi-skilled craftswoman who can put my heart, soul, and hands to work for those I love- and those I have yet to love, on this journey.
