On Working Hard For Something Special
June 19, 2013 by
Most every day, as soon as I step into the Airstream to dabble with work, I find myself feeling kind of amazed. With myself, with Robert, with life…with Goodness.
I. Worked. So. Hard.
For this Airstream.
For a portable studio space.
For the right to live where my husband lives in the summertime.
For the health and well being of my marriage and a nomadic lifestyle.
How did I do it? I did it the old fashioned way! I slaved in the studio until I had enough profit from my work (after paying the mortgage, buying groceries, paying all other living expenses and resupplying my work materials…) for us to purchase this big old rig. Then, I funded the refurbishing, and continue to fund the refurbishing with the profits from my work. It’s been a pure kind of business funding business. No credit cards. No loans. No inheritance to squander. No nothing, besides elbow grease, early mornings and late nights. And let me tell you, it hasn’t been cheap. Not even remotely. With that said, let me also say that Robert has toiled and worked his head off his broad and attractively well-muscled shoulders doing all the physical construction work on the refurbishing of the Airstream and he is, as you all know by now, utterly incredible and painstakingly perfectionist in all his project work. To put it lightly, he is my better half.
When we hooked up the Airstream to the truck in May and hauled it up to Washington, I spent a lot of time looking in the rear-view mirror as we streaked down the highway feeling so thankful and grateful and proud and pleased as punch for this thing we had toiled for. This thing we bled for, cried for, lost sleep over. The Airstream is a tangible result of our work, our team work. It’s so special and remarkable. I appreciate it every single moment of every single day.
Anyhow, today I found myself wondering about what special thing you have worked for lately? Big or small. A perfect party dress, a bigger chunk of free time, new nail polish, a house, a horse, land to put a house and horse on…a pair of Frye boots, a truck, a tattoo, a piece of art, a fancy dinner out, a vitamix (!!!), new shoes for your babies, opera tickets, a trip home…tell me about it. If you are in the midst of working hard for something, I want to know about it. I want to be a tiny part of that dream you are bringing true. Will you share?
:::POST SCRIPTUS:::
I feel I should add that I didn’t want this post to be about *listing everything* we want in the comment section like materialistic fiends. I realize not all the examples I listed were purely noble or brilliant in nature…I just spewed out a random list of stuff. I also want to state that I don’t think it’s wrong to want things and have things. Not at all. This is all to say I have been thrilled that of the ten comments left on this post so far, the responses are REAL responses, wonderful responses, from hard working folks. Beautiful dreams. Wonderful success stories. Just what I was hoping for.
I did want to make you stop and think about why you work, or why your spouse works, about life goals and paths because I am in a place where I’m looking broadly at my life and am ready to set fresh goals and take new directions. As always, thanks for taking the time to respond.
Bison Knuckles
June 18, 2013 by
Sterling silver & a super old stock cut of rugged Arizona turquoise: for girls who like to leave a mark.
A handful of the random and a dash of trees.
June 17, 2013 by
Last week was a nice week. I finally feel truly settled in here, and know I am because Robert and I spent the weekend together driving back roads in our truck, hiking into little lakes, fishing, reading, kayaking, sipping iced tea and simply enjoying being together and being in love. We’re still in love, you know? Really in love. We’ve been married for nine years but I still feel like I’m nineteen and seeing him for the first time, every single day.
Speaking of love, I am head-over-heels-rump-over-tea-kettle crazy for the woods. Stark raving mad. Cuckoo! Berserkers for the forest. I was like this last year, too. If I see a big ponderosa pine tree, I have to hug it, or stop and gaze up at it, dumb in its marvelous presence. I am filled with such deep appreciation. Laying my palms against the trunk of a tree makes me feel close to God. It’s like I’m completing a circuit, there with my feet on earth, my hands on a tree, the tree against the heavens. It’s electric. Sometimes it makes me cry, the very aliveness of it, the smallness and hugeness of it.
Tree jottings from this week past:
When we live here, I am continually dwelling on the idea of trees, the very essence of them, I mean their steadfastness and nature of servitude.
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Why can’t people be more like trees?
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The forest is a boisterous place. It’s often described as a bastion of quietude and peace but I should choose to more clearly define it as a place free of human racket. Isn’t a respite from humanity what we are truly seeking when we go out into nature? I write this from the loft deck at the cabin and all around me is bird racket, the various pitches and frequencies of buzzing bugs, a raven shouting at the wind and beating his wings on the thinness of air, the rapid fire rattle of chipmunks and squirrels, the watery sound of the tree tops surfing the breeze. It is loud here. There is sound swirling all around me, tinged and punctuated by the pizzicato of many living things, but I am not made weary by it like I am the sounds of traffic or the spill and shrill of humans in conversation. Here, in the forest, it is anything but quiet.
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This is mid-June. I see and feel the forest cresting, reaching and stretching for the climax of full bloom. The green is still fresh and new, rich with the effort of merit. The trees don’t speak, but I know what they are saying, up there, up high, when they clap their leaves and chime their emotions under moon and sun. I pin a bright badge of respect to the bark of every tree I pass. Oh, good, tall, stalwart friends.
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Trees for president!
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A forest is a fortress, the very thing to hold me safely in.
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I’ll never get over the ways a ponderosa pine tree wraps its bark, branches and needles around the wavering curves of daylight. A pondi is a wrangler of sunshine, a true cowboy of a tree, a tall stout thing that gentles the sky, draws it in, makes it into a brave partner and friend. In the kind and splaying hands of the pondi, the spirit of the sky is never broken. Every needle is a fragrant feather, a remembrance of earth and stone, a glimmer of ground and a tiny defeat of gravity. How I love the ponderosa pine.