'Privy'/ the Director's Chair

Again becoming privy to the notion of "home", week one:

I had been gone from Fairbanks almost long enough for me to forget its draw. As with all places we live, I think, the more time passes the more the details of both the gore and the glamor about a place get stuffed into the cobweb-corners of our minds. Although the time span of my absence was minimal and swiftly-passing, still cobwebs began to overtake the nuances of happiness-memories that had originally mentally committed me to more time here. When I got off the plane back east I was on a hell-bending mission just to "get back home". Unsurprisingly it took longer than expected. And I became frustrated, complacent, stir-crazy. But when, just before the point of surrender, the chance to return to north fell in my lap I actually hesitated on the decision. The move back to yard-privy and no-running-water were not the issues I was fighting, but rather the "what" and "why" of the opportunity which landed in my lap; they felt a bit too heavy. The cobwebs were clouding my synapses you see.

Because, here at home (versus everywhere else I have lived) things work out for me...not in some extravagant or luxurious way, but rather quite the opposite. I need or wish for simple things to make daily tasks more fluidly executed, and those things arrive before me. Like an ocean breeze, peace-of-mind sweeps over my psyche and a smile becomes more comfortable than a lonely inquisitive stare. The ease of putting aside my ego frees me up to bask in the company of others who live mostly ego-free. So at the end of week one, despite the weight I bear, I am happy not to have cut off my nose to spite my face.

Truthfully, my current challenges can be categorized only under the label of "time to create"...but the problem is that category is a big one; its the essence of "me". Where historically I used to be the creator on the stage transforming myself into the fruition of some mythical being of angst and grace, I am now the Spielberg of the show sitting in a very tall canvas chair, peering at the action from a great distance. As I suspected I don't really like or require the view from up here, when the dirty work below is so much more fun. I function best with hands-on tasks and the need to tackle quandaries with creativity and intellect. The height and isolation of the director's chair feel stale, stationary. Essentially right now I'm atop the golden throne when I'd rather be marching out to the privy.

I intend to make the most of the view up here, savor it and store it, while attempting to climb back down to the ground where I can get good and dirty.