I can safely say I love Bellingham. Perhaps not the town so much, but
the land. On weekends, after a few lazy hours of coffee and reading and cat snuggles, I seek out the woods, the mountains, the lakes. I have yet to find a hiking trail or footpath that doesn't fill me with wonder, that doesn't end with me trudging back to my car hours later feeling vibrant, rich with rejuvenation.
I do occasionally venture away from nature. Now and then I treat myself to a movie at the local Pickford Theater or Limelight Cinema. I've begun volunteering at the local Mount Baker Theater – ushering - just 1-2 events a month. It's a nice way to experience the culture around me, and I get to enjoy part (if not all of) of the shows I work for free. I've checked out a book club at the local Village Books bookstore, and might be starting a new one with some co-workers. I am trying to become better about seeking new experiences, new moments, savoring them as one does when they walk along a winter beach picking up soft, smooth sea stones to turn around and hold in their hands.
I do occasionally venture away from nature. Now and then I treat myself to a movie at the local Pickford Theater or Limelight Cinema. I've begun volunteering at the local Mount Baker Theater – ushering - just 1-2 events a month. It's a nice way to experience the culture around me, and I get to enjoy part (if not all of) of the shows I work for free. I've checked out a book club at the local Village Books bookstore, and might be starting a new one with some co-workers. I am trying to become better about seeking new experiences, new moments, savoring them as one does when they walk along a winter beach picking up soft, smooth sea stones to turn around and hold in their hands.
Of course nothing is perfect, and many of my past worries have followed me here. I do not think they will ever truly fade. My most persistent and vicious fears have to do money. Someone told me once my anxiety over money is much greater than most peoples. I have a hard time understanding that, but then isn’t that how anxiety
normally works? Finding an affordable, cat-friendly apartment has proved impossible so far, so
I am learning how to wind my worries around a core of gratefulness. I am most successful at this in the mornings, when I wake to Faelina purring in my arms and then sit up to a view that never fails to stun me. It doesn't matter if I am greeted with pure blue
skies, or misty pearls shimmering over the islands, or pure, total gray, it is
always beautiful. Birds are everywhere. Eagles and seagulls and crows soar past the window. Cormorants by the hundreds line the old, abandoned structures of
the bay. I’ve seen herons, and ducks of all varieties, and a pair of mating ospreys guarding their nest. In the winter- a
lone Loon balancing atop the waves and then diving repeatedly under them. Every now and then a seal bobs cheerfully past. Close
to the house, there are sparrows and starlings and hummingbirds – usually
Anna’s - in the yard. This past summer has brought dozens of bunnies, and both Faelina and I have enjoyed observing as they dart to and fro
across the yard, pretend to attack each other, then nibble carelessly along the
grass. And I still love the trains that rumble by, perpetual travelers, shouting promises of adventure.
My job is decent, and I am glad to have found it, that it has allowed me to stay in Bellingham. That being said it doesn't tie in what I am most passionate about. The environment, women's rights, ending the persistent and systemic racism that still exists in our country, helping the thousands of people around the world who are really, truly suffering...it tackles none of that. And it doesn't make me feel truly alive, not like I do when I am creating something that before only existed in the invisible worlds around us. I am in the process of questioning myself, about why I'm not striving more towards the those things, and just how long I can continue not to.
And of course, no matter how thrilled I am to be living where I do, I am shredded every second by my longing for home. The fact that I am not there to see my nephews and niece grow is a fact that is harder to make peace with each passing day. I said here once, that I would forever hate myself for choosing Washington over them, and that is true. I deal with that guilt and inner hatred always.
But life is a balance.
Last night I went walking around Lake Padden. The sky was thick with the cool wetness that accompanies a day of hard rain. Those gray drops had passed hours before though, giving way to a pale, comforting blue light. The wind was quiet, lake waters calm. Families wrapped up a day of swimming, runners darted past finally free from days chained to their desk, children laughed delightedly between playgrounds, and out on the docks lone fishers stood, reeling in their lines as a horizon would the setting sun. The towering trees were soothing, their vibrant moss cloaks magical. I watched a silent Heron through a leafy frame, it's peaceful spirit rippling in the air around it. Chickadees flittered gaily between pine needled branches, chattering all the while. A Brown Creeper skittered and spiraled around a tree. And, after months of searching into to the farthest corners of the tallest trees, I stumbled into a Pileated Woodpecker intently searching for food on a short tree stump a mere 15 feet away. In a life rife with imperfections, last evening I walked into a rare, perfect moment.
I am lucky, I am stumbling, I am sometimes miserable, I am sometimes glowing. I am growing. I am grateful. I am scared. I am breathing. I have no clue what I am doing. I am learning to be ok with that. A year from now I might still be in Bellingham. Or tomorrow I might wake and realize I can no longer ignore the beckoning trains. Time will tell; I'll keep you posted.
But life is a balance.
Last night I went walking around Lake Padden. The sky was thick with the cool wetness that accompanies a day of hard rain. Those gray drops had passed hours before though, giving way to a pale, comforting blue light. The wind was quiet, lake waters calm. Families wrapped up a day of swimming, runners darted past finally free from days chained to their desk, children laughed delightedly between playgrounds, and out on the docks lone fishers stood, reeling in their lines as a horizon would the setting sun. The towering trees were soothing, their vibrant moss cloaks magical. I watched a silent Heron through a leafy frame, it's peaceful spirit rippling in the air around it. Chickadees flittered gaily between pine needled branches, chattering all the while. A Brown Creeper skittered and spiraled around a tree. And, after months of searching into to the farthest corners of the tallest trees, I stumbled into a Pileated Woodpecker intently searching for food on a short tree stump a mere 15 feet away. In a life rife with imperfections, last evening I walked into a rare, perfect moment.
I am lucky, I am stumbling, I am sometimes miserable, I am sometimes glowing. I am growing. I am grateful. I am scared. I am breathing. I have no clue what I am doing. I am learning to be ok with that. A year from now I might still be in Bellingham. Or tomorrow I might wake and realize I can no longer ignore the beckoning trains. Time will tell; I'll keep you posted.
~*~*~
