Posted by Sharon on January 29, 2021

This is f*ing hard work

I'd like to say something about the aestheticisation of the alt-lifestyle. All those happy families living it up in simplicity? Okay, Real I guess, but for those of us (me) who weren't born already living like God's gift to humankind (even though I Am, clearly), well, I just want to say that this journey is first of all a journey of self-transformation, and it's hard inside of me because it's real, and it's hard in my relationships because it's real.

In that context I just want to acknowledge the person I've hurt the most because of my commitment to living well. And I'm going to be gumptious enough to give a bit of advice: don't even thinking about staying home without first finding someone who loves you. Don't stay home in yourself, don't stay home in your locale, and don't stay home in your planet--find an escape. If you do stay home--if you make a real and honest commitment in spite of your limitations--if you're anything like me--you're going to want to find a partner like my Phil.

Sometimes I write poems for Phil on our anniversaries. Here's one of the first.

Standing waves

You won’t catch me crossing a bar.

(I think.)

When I was nine, we left my mother beached

between creek and sea.

I remember my thrill,

my mother’s anxiety.

For her, Father steered our canoe to less risky waters.

Now, You are at home

with our small daughter

and I sail the straight.

The instructor speaks of risk

of standing waves,

how a powerful flow

can form

into treacherous sameness

and hidden lows.

I recall our honeymoon.

You pointed to the creek

as it flowed against the tide.

We watched a bump form in the water.

Another, as we stood on the beach together, and then more.

Like a sea serpent, you said.

Like the feel of your fingers, I think,

Like a woman remembering her lengthening spine.