Trusting oneself

"A sign of God is that we were led to a place we did not intend to go."

I am living out in the country, my Gullah neighbor Fred reminds me. On a wide, soft dirt road, surrounded by more trees and birds, and deer than people. The rural part is more important I think than the ocean part. But living here is surprising me in ways I did not expect. In six weeks my perspective has shifted.

Yesterday my copy of Living Magazine arrived. I have always admired Martha Stewart's creativity, drive and love of beauty. But the pictures in it, as I sat looking at it yesterday while I waited my turn at the driver's licensing office in the nearby town, is so fancy now, and the images looked a little foreign. My eyes see anew. For real! I have new people in my life bearing gifts of time and talent. I need less than I ever imagined and happiness is noticing that the birds begin singing only as the first light gently begins in the trees, watching frogs, feeling the wind pick up with the tide.

Trusting in the call, I suppose, was the most difficult part of getting here, which took me 18 months. I doubted my commitment to this land when it was a struggle. But being here is one of the most reassuring feelings I can remember. I am simply filled with awe at my good fortune on this summer morning.

Today began rainy. The little shed I am calling RedTop was supposed to get a 'lean-to' but hey, will they come, risk being rained out? The workers drive in from a little town an hour away. Turns out the rain just teased us and tonight my little addition is nearly finished. I will be so happy to have a place for paint cans and bug spray.

Learned two big things in the last two days. The tide ebbs and flows. In and out. When you walk out and the mosquistos are crazy, the tide is sitting....about to change....... so there is no wind.

I have a new riding tractor today. She is cherry red. Got her on Saturday. Tonight at about 7 I cranked her up for the first time, and oh my goodness, how fun and easy and useful this cherry red baby is.

I am blessed and grateful.

Surprised by Joy

"If a man set out from home on a journey and kept on going, he would come back to his own front door." - Sir John Mandeville, 14th century

Feels like home on this little island. I do not have a house but this feels like the years of my early childhood on the rural land outside of Mooresville, North Carolina. Edisto feels like the 50's again. Simple things like needing your neighbors (and trust me, I do), the two lane roads, the garden, the great outdoors, and well, less STUFF. The last few years in the United States were a gilded age I suppose, with mansions and massages and money flowing everywhere. The Great Recession, as I hear them calling it, put some brakes on the love of so much stuff perhaps. It did it for me. Even I got carried away on ebay bargains. (I could curate a show on paint by number paintings of the 50's which charm me and make me smile with their great ironies) My bills are now just for the land and the electricity mainly: my monthly expenses have been reduced by more than half. I have a little savings, thank goodness, but mostly dreams for the future.

I am surprised by the feelings that being on the little island has engendered, however. It feels intimate and interesting, and satisfying. It is life at its basics. The sounds of nature, the amazing painted bunting birds at the feeder, the deer in the yard, the little tree frogs having bug dinner on the window of Rosy over my supper table. Good simple butterbeans and a fresh tomato for dinner. Surprised by Joy was the name of the book by CS Lewis and a poem by Wordsworth. It means new things to me today. In the heat of the summer, I am surprised by such a welcome as this.

Edisto as Eden Isle

The moon is almost full and I awoke last night to see blue light splashed all over the grass outside Rosy's window. The frogs are still croaking from the rainstorm we had last night. I had forgotten to close the doors to the shed, so I had to wrap myself in a towel to run the 10 yards to secure the double door, in the rain. Rainstorms here are no mild thing here on the island, and I returned soaked by the buckets of water dropping from the sky. How grateful Rosy is dry and lit. Beau, the dog, was shaking and diving for cover. During the night the sky cleared, as most storms do, and the stars came out. There is something very powerful about living inside this natural world, about not being so insulated by housing that barricades me from the outside. It feels like something we humans need more of to be content. I cannot remember enjoying my life so much as I am right now. It feels challenging, and this more simple life requires of me. Meeting the challenge is essentially a human need I am coming to believe. The sun is waking the birds now. I understand Mary Oliver's poems in a new way. This is my painting called "Edisto as Eden Isle".

" the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. A whole stream of events issue from the decision, raising one's favor all manner of unforseen incidents, mettings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way." - the mountaineer William Hutchinson Murray

This are my first tomatoes. I am so happy the deer have decided to let me keep them (they have eaten the rose blossoms instead). Last night I had a big plate of fresh tomatoes (from the next door neighbors) and my own basil, drizzled with olive oil. I now have fresh frozen corn in the little freezer.

My new friend Ike came yesterday and built the box steps of the the shed I am calling RedTop. They are exactly like the photograph I showed him and I am thrilled. He helped me fix the front door too, which was coming apart. Now the lock works well, and the metal and trim is newly secured. Funny, how wonderful the tiny successes are when all things are essential in your living environment. I like this life and I am as happy as I can remember. It is simple and I am lacking only perhaps in access to my library of books. But having DSL here in Rosy is almost as good. I do not miss the television at all. I feel just full of gratitude and faith today.

It is the 4th of July. The island is sunny and there's a breeze. My neighbor, Fred, brought me a watermelon, and some corn and tomatoes. He picked produce for one of the island growers yesterday. What a terrific day yesterday was!

I have a new friend who came and helped me get the resolve the most pressing need: it seems as the air conditioner on top of my little RV named Rosy is placed in the center of the roof, right over the door. Since the awning was not extended due to some wind damage last summer, water was dripping on my head every time I entered the door. The dog was bringing muddy footprints in, and cleaning the floor every minute was getting old. I met my friend Ike in the building supply about a month ago. He is a renovation contractor and works on the old Plantation houses on the island. I went in to ask around to see if they could help me discover how to secure my soon to arrive 8ft x 14ft shed, just in case high winds came this season. He happened to be there buying something, and the saleswoman pointed to him. I call it serenidity.

He graciously drove by and called me in Charlotte in early June to confirm the news when I heard that my little red tinned house was indeed there already. (I had not paid the kind gentleman I contracted with to build it, so I was surprised. I like this on trust way of doing business. How refreshing!) Yesterday afternoon, Ike had some free time in the afternoon and stopped and carefully examined my problem. Slowly, and step by step, he figured out each piece of the puzzle, and we succeeded in unrolling the awning and after a trip to the hardware store, we created an in ground securing system and even a new direction for any future water. I am thrilled. Today I sit inside in the shade with only my fans on - it is only 88 degrees today, hurray. People are like this out here. Is it a country thing? Or a southern kindness. For whatever reason, I feel quite blessed by grace.

Grateful

It's a great day. The sky is blue; we had a hearty thunderstorm last night which my tomato plants loved, and a young family of deer crossed the newly mowed meadow when I awoke and first looked out this morning. Yesterday, the electrician arrived, as promised (THAT now is terrific on this island, where everyone is on EdiSLOW time)...so now little Rosy has instant hot water from the Marey tankless hot water heater, which is an amazing little gadget. Hot water! How we take things for granted. This is part of the great lessons of living really simply right now. This experiment is about lightening my energy use, about getting back to a more basic was of looking at the world.

I met a woman, over the next door neighbor's fence, yesterday, too. She is from the Black community and her name was well known, but I had never met her. She is interested in preserving the culture of this island and participates in many of the community forums dedicated to that end. I love the neighborhood of cousins here. There is so much to learn about community.

And, sweet Charlie from the hardware store arrived under darkening skies, on his way home from work, to put together my large black rolling 'cart' for the new mower. What a sweet guy. The thunderstorm proceeded to completely soak us both even under my covered little awning storage 'carport', but after an hour my new cart is ready to roll today. We talked about his new chickens (they arrived he said one day old by mail order) and his children and wife, who also works at the hardware store. What a treat to meet someone smart, reliable and good natured, even as the skies thundered and the lightening flashed.

So this is a great day. Think I will pull the food processor from the shed and make some pimento cheese. To be at the place for creating (food comes just before art, yay) is a good sign. Perhaps the issues of basic survival are nearly complete. To get the washing machine into the shed (the plumber comes next) will make life lots easier (than hooking up the machine each time I need to run it now in the yard!) Besides the visual assault of having the blue tarp covered washer in the yard.... for someone who thrives on beauty, my own little space is yet to be landscaped. That will make me happier yet.

I feel blessed and challenged and grateful. Oh, and the dog's mosquito repellent arrived in the mail yesterday, too. Clean dishes, a hot bath and a happy pup. All is well.

Tic Tac Toe (you win!)

I arrived to stay on June 19th, so I have been on the island for 10 days. Moving is stressful for anyone I suppose in any form and this is a really new adventure. My shelter is the inherited RV that was on the property when I bought it. I have named her Rosy - to keep my spirits high I think. I made a collage of flowers and glitter and it hangs on the wall. It's title is TicTacToe (you win)...it is a feng shui good luck token, and yes, it feels happy and winning looking at it hanging on the brown plastic wall of my bedroom. I am realizing how everything is about attitude. Someone once said that in life, we will have pain, but the suffering is optional. In so many ways this is just the perfect dream. I left behind the water bill, the gas bill, and that big mortgage payment. I have no tv bill for now - internet high speed streams any tv I wish to watch through my little MacBook as of Saturday, and being online that helps me feel connected to the world.

My new neighborhood is on the island, not the beach (the 'town' of Edisto Beach is five miles down the road), which is a whole different world. The island is a mix of Black Americans who are the descendants of the slaves who worked the Sea Island Cotton Plantations before the Civil War, and a few weekender whites, who have waterfront deep water property and docks across the street. Fred, who works for the local shrimper some days and lives in a tiny un-airconditioned house two doors down, walked up the drive the minute my trailer and I arrived and helped me unload the entire thing, washer and all. On the other side is a retired man who has two deep water docks and simply an enormous green 'barn' workshop with every imaginable tool and machine and mower you can dream of. Last night before dark he just drove the big tractor and bush hog over and began to help whittle down the tall grass on the back of my two acre parcel. He has mowed this grass for me while I was away for months as a gift of kindness. I now have my own new Craftsman 42" riding mower, which arrived last week. It has been a wonder and it is really fun to drive - and sure beats the push mower I left at Belle Rive. But last night I could not get it to start. Please sweet God, let her start this morning. I try to mow only inches of the tall grass at a time, but I know it is a challenge for this steel grey shiny machine, who needs a name.

Today the electrician is coming to wire the new little shed for the washing machine which I have been using in the yard (it works!) - the drain is gravity driven - just hold the hose UP while the tank fills! And he will hook up, I hope the tankless water heater I just purchased online. It seems amazing if it will work. Right now little Rosy has no hot water ( a winter breakdown last year of the old hot water heater which flooded little Rose while I was gone - the effects of which are still somewhat of a challenge). Today I am focused on TicTacToe, my blooming rose bush, my four green tomatoes and multiple blooms. I will make a tomato sandwich from the tomatoes Mr. Morrison brought me from his garden Friday night. Sweet God, thank you. I am blessed.

Homecoming, my painting and my life

It is mid June and today, part of this dream of living on my beloved island of Edisto is coming true. It is just after dawn and the days are luckily long. Today my little trailer, carrying my grill and my washing machine, is following me to the island. I have a tiny red roofed house waiting for me to serve as a closet, a wash room, and to hold my tools. The little garden was planted 10 days ago, and I pray my barricades and the rosemary will have held my deer at bay. How I dream for summer tomatoes. A new family will live in my house in Charlotte for a year, taking care of my cedar sided Belle Rive. Last night as I sat in exhaustion from days of packing, I thanked her for her care and asked her to surround this new young family with good, sweet days and nights of shelter.

This will be quite the adventure, these next months. This blog will document what it is like to live the slow life, without clothes dryer, without an oven. Right now, I do not even have hot water! My tankless hot water heater new fangled gadget is in the trailer. Son, E, magical man of skills, is traveling with me to 'hook us up'. Oh God, be on this journey with me. Tonight's moon should be bright. I am so deeply grateful for this journey.

Spring

It is going down to freezing tonight. The dogwoods and azaleas will be tested by this cold wind. But it is Spring for me in spirit. I began a new blog about history and art in Charleston, and I think it is time for me to be physically in the Lowcountry. The old midwife said it best, " When the good Lord has something for you to do, you won't have no good luck until you do it." For four years I have been trying to get to the Lowcountry. So many doors have closed in Charlotte.Tested by cold winds here lately. Wisdom is all I ask today. Thank you sweet winds of change.

ozzie harriet and robert

Seeing just boggles me. This is is a painting of mine, from oh, six years ago or so ago. It's large, oil on canvas, and it hangs on my wall because I simply continue to enjoy looking at it everyday. I painted it after a trip to Lo Angeles with my sister, Dianne, to see my namesake niece, Charlotte.

My souvenir from the visit was this postcard of Ozzie & Harriet, a reminder of the idealized 1950's family on TV from my childhood. I brought the postcard home, and projected it onto my canvas late one night. The image of this perfect family humored me, as my own was splintered and not perfect at all. In my pile of old black and white photographs, collected from flea markets and garage sales, was this other charming gentleman, with an elegant smile and a great hat. He looked like Robert Johnson, the bluesman, too, whose music inspires me when I paint. So Robert got projected up there, in the dark, all life size, and became a member of the family. I mark the outlines of the figures in cobalt blue paint on the white canvas, the way Alice Neel used to do. Later I choose all the colors and draw from the handheld picture. Color is how I feel about it all, and painting it heals me some way - the bright colors in this painting feel triumphant I think. It made me smile to think of the mysterious black brother in the Ozzie and Harriet scenario.

Sort of like how it feels now, to have Obama as President of the United States, in fact. I look at this painting and still smile at the trickster imposing as child. Now this is what is so cool about being an artist. Yesterday, I am reading my old journals, which I never do, and I stumbled upon an entry from 2004. Oh, I really would like to paint myself as a black member of the family, but how in the world could I do that? I do not understand even a shadow of the how it feels to have black skin in the South, to be suspected of shoplifting or speeding or to be turned down for a job because of the color of my skin. I decided not to paint that idea. But then, yesterday, I saw. This is that painting! I had painted it already. I am the Robert, this is yet another self portrait, and yes, it reveals to me how I FELT in my own family. Odd as he looks here, there is a happiness, a charm, a knowing, though, isn't there? Another glimpse into the light of things. Amazing.

Little Boat Without An Oar

What I'm trying to do is say lighten up and let life flow through you, and be on the waves as they go up and down. For me, a great image in mythology is Tristan of Tristan and Isolde. He's out there on a little boat without an oar, without a rudder, on the Irish sea . . . You float your way. You drift. The essence of my approach is to be extravagantly accepting and forgiving of yourself and others. Ride the waves and let life take you where it has good things for you." - Thomas Moore

Lately I am watching several close family members, the generation below me, struggling with how to do the real thing in their marriages: how to juggle those elusive components that create genuine intimacy. I am blessed now, in my fifties, to have a good and soulful relationship, but this arrived only after I found that floating, trusting place in myself. It is not that I did not enjoy the ride and the practice; I served as muse and inspired poetry and song, because I was good at the lush part of love and skilled at seduction. But I wanted the real thing. I wanted to find home with my mate and my children, to have the family that reflected deep trust and respect, faithfulness...lightness of being. When I was young I thought if I worked hard enough anything was possible. If I worked hard enough... if I kept a perfectly clean house... if I cooked dinner every night, was a goddess in bed, if I was perfect at every task I took on. But I had no instinctive roadmap for success; my parents divorced when I was little and carried great animosity toward one another. I simply had no earthly idea how to get what I wanted. I had desire, my faith and my determination and I expected that to work. It didn't. It wasn't what I expected. Which is exactly the point. And what a life of faith really is. Faith to leap into new places of trust. No, the answer, too long coming, and one completely beyond logic, was to let go. It was to float around in that little boat without an oar.

a bright new world

It is January and seeing is believing. Even though it is frigid and wintry out, the country has elected a smart, kind, moral man, who seems to be awake. All things feel better, even in the midst of an economic meltdown of historic proportions. President Roosevelt cautioned us in 1932 that fear was the only thing to fear. Having this new President feels like we did a wise thing. Today there is hope even in the insecurity. For that I am bursting with gratitude, simply in being able to see a bright new day through this cold and wintry one.