The rain belted through the night – Medillia’s Lament

Bell_Rock_Lighthouse_during_a_storm_cph.3b18344“He reached up and held his head, he hoped to be able to make the images stop but they continued. He slid down along the cold hard steel until he hit the floor. A small hand pressed against a six paneled window. The rain belted through the dark night against the glass and framed the image of the little hand in such an eerie way.  He watched with his eyes closed as the little hand turned into large rocks in the harbor. The rocks froze in their place from fear as the massive waves from the storm crashed upon their jagged edges. His eyes were fixated on the rocks until the fog rolled in and blocked them from John’s sight.  The horn from the lighthouse echoed throughout his body and lulled him into a deep relaxed state.  He opened his eyes and gazed down upon the crumpled up photo in his hand. As he ran his finger over Kristen’s face he heard her voice, “Why won’t you let me in. why won’t you ever just let me in?”  Medillia’s Lament, The Novel

Our body and mind have an incredible gift of being able to hold back memories and experiences that may be too painful for us to endure.  As we become stronger as individuals they are then alerted somehow that we are stronger and ready to process bits and pieces of traumatic experiences we may have endured in the past without actually even remembering doing so.  It’s curious to imagine that we as organisms are so incredibly complex and wired for survival in the most unimaginable ways.  When I was growing up my mom often spoke of fate and how it seemed to be intertwined with free will. The two ideas never were much of a match to me and as I grew older I often contemplated how she could believe so strongly in both.  As I am growing older and experiencing a wider range of life, I’m getting glimpses of how it may all be so.

John has lived a life of traumatic occurrences and experiences, probably more than one individual should ever be expected to carry on their shoulders.  As he lets his guard down slowly and begins to allow light into his dark world he is triggered more and more by everyday items in an everyday world.



  • A taste of each – Who Cares?

    north-carolina_blue-ridge_1280x800Last night I waited on a party of three from North Carolina.  They were fun, energetic, and eager to experience Maine, “The way life should be.”  After asking questions about which items on the menu were local and wanting to make sure that they were going to order something unique to  our region, one woman turned to me and said, “I don’t see any wines from Maine on your menu.”

    It took me back for a moment. I’ve never been asked a question in regards to our having local wine. Beers? Yes, plenty of times and proud to share that we have dozens of local beers on tap, always flowing and ready to represent the great state of Maine.  As I ran through the index file in my mind and sorted through our extensive fine wine list the party continued to share how much they would like to try a wine made in Maine.  Finally I flipped to the right card and remembered that a husband and wife from my own town had started producing wines a few years ago and had recently brought  some bottles from  their new label into the restaurant.  I quickly shared that we did have a new Maine wine on special recently and I would check to see if we had any left. I asked if they would like to sample what we did have in stock and they eagerly replied yes.

    SLH-pinot-label-300x251

    We had two bottles of the Andrew Bevan label in house, a Pinot Noir and a Chardonnay. The bartender poured a taste of each and off I went back to the table.  I placed the glasses in front of the two ladies and waited as they first sniffed the aromas and then slowly sipped and held the wine on their palettes a moment before swallowing. I hadn’t yet tried any of the collection, so I waited patiently for their decision. Smiles appeared on their faces and after continuous nods they ordered one of each.  They were so incredibly impressed with each of the wines that they asked numerous times where they could purchase bottles on their drive back to Boston.

    The group of three traveling from North Carolina had been determined to experience Maine and were open to trying everything that was either from or produced in this great region of our state.  I admired their gusto and respected the way in which they chose to live life and learn from all it may have to offer.  Ironically, I happen to know Andrew and Amy and admire them as well for taking the less traveled road in life and creating something from scratch, an idea that often begins more or less as a notion,stepping out of one’s comfort zone and being willing and open to what may follow.  It may not seem like such a huge experience that I encountered last night at work but somehow being there it felt as though we could all take a little bit of inspiration from the group of travelers and the local entrepreneurs.  It seems to me that they are all part of a growing group of humans in our world that seem to care what they do, create, and  celebrate.

     



  • Our next grand adventure – A New Family

    photo by Kyle Weaver

    photo by Kyle Weaver

    For the record, I’m not the only one who seems to be attracting animals to this farm.  I have a partner in crime who seems to be just as open and excited as myself at the prospect of filling our barn with animals and love.  I received a text yesterday from Kyle asking me if he had shown me this picture.  How could I help but grin.  We met this pig on one of our past adventures to Newbury, MA celebrating Kyle’s birthday.   We both stayed awhile at the fence admiring her and in awe of how she was able to move her massive self around in the mud and beyond.  We began to wonder out loud with one another.  SeaStar Farm has a large pasture sitting empty, with grasses and wild flowers growing a muck.  We’ve transformed it’s adjacent stall into a temporary chicken coop until we either need the space for another animal or we have built a proper coop for our four hens.

    I forget who first shared the phrase with us but since we heard the words, mortgage maker, they seem to be a recurring theme in conversations.  Kyle and I joke about bringing a pig like this one to the farm.  The implications of what it would mean so overwhelming right now and the choir seems to think that a pig wouldn’t be the best fit for our new farm family.  The choir is probably right, for now, but I love that Kyle is always open to and working to create the next grand adventure on our farm.  We are constantly arranging and rearranging the barn as we learn more and develop our daily routines with taking care of the animals.

    Our main concern at the moment is being able to make a final determination of whether or not Mindy is a hen or a rooster.  She looks like a rooster but is not crowing and does not have the large tail bump out and feathers.  The hens hatched in March and our lead farm consultant believes that if she was a rooster she/he would have already began crowing. Silly, right? We all have to start somewhere and since none of us have ever been farmers before the beginning seemed like an the right place to start. I guess we better focus on our hen dilemma before we consider adding any other animals to SeaStar Farm.



  • Comet – A New Family

     

    CometThis is Comet. He is a Dwarf Nigerian goat and came to live with us on SeaStar Farm last October.  We knew little or nothing about goats except for my youngest daughter whose favorite summer activity is to go to farm camp.  He quickly bullied his way into our hearts and emerged as the patriarch of our barn.  I snapped this picture in the middle of mucking out our goats stall.  We have four now; Comet, Jingle, Dasher, and Rudolph.  They eat, play, and move throughout the pasture in a tight knit group and always come running when we are walking down the stone pathway to the barn.

    There is not a day that goes by that I don’t learn something knew from being with the goats and taking care of them, either about myself or them.  The time spent in the quiet barn at night changing their water, filling their minerals or hay, and taking time to brush them has become something I treasure.  Watching Kyle and the kids find their own ways with the animals has become almost magical.  We’ve made plenty mistakes, and I’m sure we will make more as we move forward with our cacophony of animals which now includes four goats, two rabbits, four chickens, a dog, and a cat.  The barn has become an intricate part of our daily routine and as we constantly readjust and change how we do things in our daily keeping of the animals and barn.  We are on a huge learning curve and it’s become one of the greatest adventures of my life.



  • Misery loves company – Medillia’s Lament

    thecentreofhealing.com

    thecentreofhealing.com

    “Sara’s insides grew restless as she sat next to John’s misery.  She felt his pain and it made her want to crawl out of her skin.  It was a misery she knew all too well, wanting a life she knew she would never have.

    “It’s okay.” He assured her.  She felt the weight of his world fall upon her as she slid back, deeper into her chair while he began to share.” Medillia’s Lament, The Novel

    Why do we read novels, biographies, blogs, and the daily news?  There seems to be an incessant hunger for the knowings and goings of others close to us and around the world. Misery loves company has become a catch phrase hurled through the air when people share the news of other’s misfortune or life when it has gone terribly wrong.  There’s a comfort that seems to be had in knowing that you are not alone in your pain, loss, or suffering and there are others who may be experiencing the same thing.

    John, not being one of these individuals, had held his pain close to home.  He refused to be open and share the details of his own misery with anyone.  He became guarded and rigid and fell into a vicious cycle of self medication of denial and alcohol.  His heart grew walls, a fortress surrounded his soul and kept out any light or hope that tried chipping away at is fortified foundations of pain and loss.  Then when it was least expected, they were finally able to break through in the smallest, almost unnoticed way. As the light first moved through the wall into where his heart remained guarded, he began to wake up and feel more and more like a human being and less of a ghost moving through the endless nights and darkest days.  Sara had no idea of what she witnessed as she sat next to him while he finally found the strength to open up and share, she had only known him for  a short while.

    In each other’s company, their misery found a place to breath and be heard without judgement or bias.  As two strangers sat in the dark and shared their stories, hope and light found their ways deeper inside and began working their magic.

     

     



  • Days of funk – A New Family

    farmdogRuby has become as much a part of this farm as any of us.  Each and every day that goes by continues to cement her as an intricate part of SeaStar Farm’s inner workings and closer to each of our hearts.  Lately, in addition to following me as I do daily chores and upkeep of a home and barn, she has become my writing dog.  I’ve transitioned my laptop permanently into our lower sun room which looks out onto our smaller pasture where we keep our four goats; Comet, Jingle, Dasher, and Rudolph. Ruby has become my faithful companion sleeping by the 32 paneled glass doors as I continuously bang out pages of Medillia’s Lament from my keyboard.  She is a comfort to me on this new journey of becoming an author, especially in the realm of fiction.

    writing dogIt’s funny, when I first began chronicling my journey through my second divorce, starting my life over again in my thirties, it was my Jack Russell, Meg who stuck by my side as I wrote late into the night with my laptop in bed while Aaron and the girls slept.  She seemed to know that I needed the support to keep going when I believed myself to be incredibly insane for wanting to share that time in my life through writing.  She would curl up on my lap with her back against the keyboard and sleep peacefully while I typed away.  Then we lost her and writing often reminded me of her loss and how it seemed just another painful memory in a string of unfortunate events in my life.

    I used to write about loneliness, regrets, guilt, and longings for a life I felt worth living. Now I have that life and I continue to share through various blogs each and every day.  It seems when all the pieces in my life were finally falling into place and making sense, I was able to open up to all the “good stuff” life has to offer and as a friend used to urge me to do, receive.  As I began to receive happiness, joy, and acceptance on a daily basis, new people, situations, experiences, and opportunities arrived at my doorstep and for that I am incredibly grateful.  I was contacted out of the blue to turn a screenplay into a novel, hired in a position that I once believed would only ever be temporary, watched my children blossom into the individuals I knew they were always meant to be, and discovered a person who liked one of my posts on facebook would soon become the love of my life.

    Today has been one of those days of funk that we all seem to experience every once in a while, but being open to doing what we do and leaning on that when feel discombobulated has seemed to make all the difference in the world.  I left the farm this morning in a funk, not sure which end was up and wanting a book of knowledge to just fall from the sky and tell me what I needed to do to make the feeling go away.  I ended up bumping into some pretty incredible strangers with bits of hidden wisdom and nestling back into my writing room at the farm with advice from my husband, “you should write love.” So that’s what I decided to do and as the afternoon continues to grow into early evening, here I sit with my writing dog beside me, doing what I do when I don’t know what else to do, I write.

     



  • Farm Camp – A New Family

    Farm Camp

    Farm Camp

    There’s a magical place close to our home that has become a focal point in one of our daughter’s world.  It’s a place where animals and children co-mingle and quietly take care of one another as they laugh, play, and learn what is truly most important in life.  On any given pick up when the sun has begun to move from its highest place in the sky above, you can expect to see the unexpected and hear the joyous cries of a good ole fashioned belly laugh ranging from the smallest small to the biggest big.  Their motto and mantra being always be safe and have fun seems to be all they really need to create an incredibly nurturing and educating habitat of life.  Our daughter looks forward to it each and every day; mucking out stalls, gathering eggs, riding the horses, and taking creativity to the next impossible level through the wondrous and magical crafts and games they play.  It’s become her safe place in life, where she can truly be who she is meant to be and not hold back in all the things children do best.  It has become an incredible reminder in our family that life can be and is meant to be fun and enjoyed even when shoveling out and cleaning up messes.



  • Do what you do – A Little Lift

    Just the Thing, Dover NH

    Just the Thing, Dover NH

    Sometimes out of nowhere I get a notion and before too long I am obsessed with bringing it to life.  Kyle and I have had a connection with islands since our first couple of dates. It began as a weekend project, visiting local islands and spending time together in Maine getting to know one another.  It quickly expanded and included talks of Nantucket, Martha’s Vineyard, and more recently Bermuda.  During the summer, I waitress to pay bills as I continue to pursue my dream of being a writer.  In my efforts to support myself and children I have accumulated a boat load of change.  Kyle seems to be a magnet to coins as well and somewhere in a conversation of island hopping we decided to actively start saving our change for a getaway this coming winter.  He shared how his parents collected coins in an old fashioned glass water jug and when it was full had enough to go to Mexico.  Perfect, I thought, now we just need a glass jug.

    My notion of needing a glass jug took me to Just the Thing in Dover this morning.  I quickly found one filled with corks.  It was the exact one I had imagined as collector of coin for our quick, winter getaway.  I asked if they had others, the image of me spending hours to remove the endless supply of corks from the bottle seemed less than appealing.  She sent me to the second floor and within minutes I came back with three antique glass, gallon jugs.   I seem to always get lost in their store, finding so many things I would like to bring back with me to continue making our house into our home.  It’s been a favorite of mine since college, this non shopper could spend hours there if my life allowed the generous reprieve.

    After I had brought the jugs to the counter and gave the clerk my debit card, I spotted a pair of matching lamps that I thought would look perfect in our bedroom.  I walked over towards the display and was surprised to find the pair were only $59.00.  I questioned if they were marked right and she smiled and said, “we like to keep things affordable here.”  I knew that, and it was one of the reasons I have always loved shopping there.  I promised myself that I would be back after another prosperous weekend of working.  Behind the counter on the wall was a display of original hand carved owls which seemed to be looking down on us as we spoke. They were light, carefree, and beautiful.  For some reason I continued to be drawn to the large tall, white one which stood higher than the rest, closer to the ceiling. After I asked how much it was I commented that I needed to leave before I did something silly and purchased it.  She again smiled and said, “You gotta do what you do.”

    I hesitated as I picked up my bag of glass jugs from the counter and smiled back at her. Her words resonated with me, my feelings and thoughts about my life as late and I couldn’t help but grin at the serendipity found in the moment.  I continue to second guess my journey of becoming a writer as I downplay the relevance of my jobs that support me in being able to follow the dream of one day supporting myself and family with my writing.  I often feel the pull of my old life in the corporate world as if going back to making ridiculous money and giving up so much of my time would deem me more successful in life.  When she looked at me and said the words, “do what you do”, I felt a tug back to somewhere closer to my own heart’s desire and away from what the world may deem the path I should take.  Maybe sometimes in life, just the thing is doing what you do and not what you may think you should be doing.



  • Someone he barely knew – Medillia’s Lament

    Garrett Conover

    Garrett Conover

    “He had shared his story for the first time out loud with someone he barely knew.  Somehow it felt like it was meant to happen and that he was safe in his reveal.  Ben and Suzy slept safe and sound in the tent next to them.  As the night grew colder and darker against the warm fire, they continued to share their stories. Sara poured herself a cup of hot chocolate from the silver thermos and pulled a worn blanket from the large canvas bag and placed it over her lap.”  Medillia’s Lament, The Novel

    Some of my most intimate conversations in life occurred with people I had just met.  I traveled a lot in my twenties for work.  I spent endless hours at airports waiting for connecting flights sitting in silence. Then as if by fate, there were times when a complete stranger would sit next to me and begin a conversation that would carry us both through to boarding.  I mostly sat and listened, hesitant to open up and share to strangers. On rare occasions, I would find myself sharing bits and pieces that I had never spoken out loud for fear someone besides myself might hear them.  It was in those rare moments in my early twenties that I began to know my true self and who I was always meant to be, not who I thought others wanted me to be.