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Dec. 7th, 2021 12:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jakebeThe past two weekends have been incredibly restorative in ways that were desperately needed. I don't think I had quite realized how far into a depression I had fallen until I came out of it, and I'm really grateful for my chosen family -- who've supported me through the past couple years even though I've been flaky and kind of combative and definitely distant. Even though things are pretty rough still, I'm content and filled with nothing but gratitude.
We spent Thanksgiving weekend with a friend who's "made it", and now lives in a mountain house halfway between Sacramento and Reno. It's a beautiful place, and he owns the (mostly) wild land around it. He's fallen in whole-heartedly to the stewardship aspect of the place, and his thoughts are on leaving his mark with the house and the land to make it better for the people who come after him. He's already put a lot of work into it, and it's clear how invested he is in making a space that's uniquely his but ALSO a place designed to accommodate his values. He wants his community to be comfortable with itself while they're visiting, and he wants to make sure every decision he makes carries the responsibility for others in high consideration.
What I find interesting about that is the idea of simultaneously "owning" a property but also recognizing that he's really just "borrowing" it for now. At some point, the house and land won't be his any more and someone else will come along to make it their own. But he's still thinking about that eventuality, making sure the land is set up to thrive in an uncertain, changing climate. We talked a lot about what we leave behind for the people around us -- not just his house, but how we help others make it through life. The lessons we impart, the strength we share, the traumas we all try to heal from. It made me think harder about the way I make others feel, and I've resolved to be a lot more conscientious about the effect I have on other people.
Part of the weekend was spent on an acid trip, my first one in...well over 20 years. This particular batch was fairly gentle with great visuals and an easy, friendly sense of "peering through". I didn't have a big earth-shattering realization on the trip, and I admit I was kind of bracing for it. I feel like I'm at a bit of a crossroads in my life, and I'm primed to either figure my shit out at last or just...be easy for the rest of my life. I mean, no decision is forever and nothing is permanent, but I've felt the forces aligning to push me into the next phase of my existence in a lot of ways. I figured the trip would give me insight into that.
And, in a lot of ways, it did. I was surprised by how...easily I slipped into myself, so to speak. I had been struggling with a sense of lost identity over the last two years, like I had spent so much time trying to please the people around me I didn't know who I was anymore. Do I even like size difference? Do I still believe in Buddhism? What IS my relationship to furry? It felt like so many of the things I had built my life around were no longer applicable, and I just kept doing them because I couldn't think of anything better.
But that night, standing on the back porch of my friend's house looking up at the stars, I realized that "I" had been here the whole time, and my own fear and anxiety had blinded me to it for a little bit. I believe in magic, I feel "other" in my soul -- like a fae, or something that has more in common with the heartbeat of the planet than my fellow men. I like jolting people out of their common experience and waking them up to the possibilities of their world. Our imaginations are the greatest tool we have, and we don't use it nearly enough. I'm a trickster, a helper, a guide, a warning. I laugh and love easily, and I'm at my best when I share that inherent joy with others.
I'm still synthesizing all of this. The holidays are not the best time to make new habits, but I'm going to give it the old college try. But with this renewed sense of self comes a new confidence; I feel more comfortable being open, and even talking about the parts of myself I don't necessarily like. It feels good to be comfortable in my own skin again.
I just came back from Midwest Furfest last weekend, and I had a grand old time. I essentially crashed the FurPlanet table in the dealer's den and helped them with sales through most of the convention. I didn't attend a single panel for that reason, and mostly hung out in smaller groups with people I hadn't been able to see for a little while. I didn't sweat missing out on stuff, and I didn't worry as much as I would have otherwise about the interactions I had. It was a great time, and I'm glad I went -- but I also know that I'm very glad to be back in my little burrow. As much as I love traveling, it's undeniable that the best part of any trip is coming home.
Met a lot of cool people for the first time, rediscovered my love of books and talking about books, didn't pig out too much during the con and kept my expenses...mostly reasonable. I really did miss the boundless creativity my fellow furs displayed over the convention, and just how much people worked on their craft through the pandemic. It was awesome to see, and made me glad all over again that I'm in this fandom.
I'll have to talk about my new position at work tomorrow. With Mom and everything, things are very uncertain at the worst possible time but I suppose that can't be helped. From what I know, she's still hanging on -- but the hospice nurse agrees that the end is at hand. Chances are I'll need to make a trip to Baltimore by next week at the latest. It'll be rough, no doubt, but I know I have the support of so many awesome, lovely people to get me through it.
We spent Thanksgiving weekend with a friend who's "made it", and now lives in a mountain house halfway between Sacramento and Reno. It's a beautiful place, and he owns the (mostly) wild land around it. He's fallen in whole-heartedly to the stewardship aspect of the place, and his thoughts are on leaving his mark with the house and the land to make it better for the people who come after him. He's already put a lot of work into it, and it's clear how invested he is in making a space that's uniquely his but ALSO a place designed to accommodate his values. He wants his community to be comfortable with itself while they're visiting, and he wants to make sure every decision he makes carries the responsibility for others in high consideration.
What I find interesting about that is the idea of simultaneously "owning" a property but also recognizing that he's really just "borrowing" it for now. At some point, the house and land won't be his any more and someone else will come along to make it their own. But he's still thinking about that eventuality, making sure the land is set up to thrive in an uncertain, changing climate. We talked a lot about what we leave behind for the people around us -- not just his house, but how we help others make it through life. The lessons we impart, the strength we share, the traumas we all try to heal from. It made me think harder about the way I make others feel, and I've resolved to be a lot more conscientious about the effect I have on other people.
Part of the weekend was spent on an acid trip, my first one in...well over 20 years. This particular batch was fairly gentle with great visuals and an easy, friendly sense of "peering through". I didn't have a big earth-shattering realization on the trip, and I admit I was kind of bracing for it. I feel like I'm at a bit of a crossroads in my life, and I'm primed to either figure my shit out at last or just...be easy for the rest of my life. I mean, no decision is forever and nothing is permanent, but I've felt the forces aligning to push me into the next phase of my existence in a lot of ways. I figured the trip would give me insight into that.
And, in a lot of ways, it did. I was surprised by how...easily I slipped into myself, so to speak. I had been struggling with a sense of lost identity over the last two years, like I had spent so much time trying to please the people around me I didn't know who I was anymore. Do I even like size difference? Do I still believe in Buddhism? What IS my relationship to furry? It felt like so many of the things I had built my life around were no longer applicable, and I just kept doing them because I couldn't think of anything better.
But that night, standing on the back porch of my friend's house looking up at the stars, I realized that "I" had been here the whole time, and my own fear and anxiety had blinded me to it for a little bit. I believe in magic, I feel "other" in my soul -- like a fae, or something that has more in common with the heartbeat of the planet than my fellow men. I like jolting people out of their common experience and waking them up to the possibilities of their world. Our imaginations are the greatest tool we have, and we don't use it nearly enough. I'm a trickster, a helper, a guide, a warning. I laugh and love easily, and I'm at my best when I share that inherent joy with others.
I'm still synthesizing all of this. The holidays are not the best time to make new habits, but I'm going to give it the old college try. But with this renewed sense of self comes a new confidence; I feel more comfortable being open, and even talking about the parts of myself I don't necessarily like. It feels good to be comfortable in my own skin again.
I just came back from Midwest Furfest last weekend, and I had a grand old time. I essentially crashed the FurPlanet table in the dealer's den and helped them with sales through most of the convention. I didn't attend a single panel for that reason, and mostly hung out in smaller groups with people I hadn't been able to see for a little while. I didn't sweat missing out on stuff, and I didn't worry as much as I would have otherwise about the interactions I had. It was a great time, and I'm glad I went -- but I also know that I'm very glad to be back in my little burrow. As much as I love traveling, it's undeniable that the best part of any trip is coming home.
Met a lot of cool people for the first time, rediscovered my love of books and talking about books, didn't pig out too much during the con and kept my expenses...mostly reasonable. I really did miss the boundless creativity my fellow furs displayed over the convention, and just how much people worked on their craft through the pandemic. It was awesome to see, and made me glad all over again that I'm in this fandom.
I'll have to talk about my new position at work tomorrow. With Mom and everything, things are very uncertain at the worst possible time but I suppose that can't be helped. From what I know, she's still hanging on -- but the hospice nurse agrees that the end is at hand. Chances are I'll need to make a trip to Baltimore by next week at the latest. It'll be rough, no doubt, but I know I have the support of so many awesome, lovely people to get me through it.
