It’s a lovely 15-degree morning here in Taos, Mexico. I think I’ll just get these out of the way now, so I can get some work done:
Boiling Rage: This is mostly associated with growing up. It’s interesting that Jungian analysts tend to say that nobody is worth fooling with until they’re in their 50s, because it’s right about that time (or somewhat later) that the pebble in your psychological shoe becomes a boulder. What I have to do is bust that rock by releasing all the emotional energy — constructively, one hopes, by transmutation into art. Otherwise, it’s back to ramming cars in the parking lot or swatting cats across the room, neither of which leaves a lasting good impression.
The Great Contraction: Ah, now this is a good one. See, I moved us from a lovely if mouldering 2.57 acre farmstead on the Eastern Shore of Maryland nine years ago because, well, because I’m nuts, and because I needed to put myself through a series of tests I was bound to fail in order to reach clarity on certain issues. (One learns much faster that way.)
The more astute among you will have picked up here — nine years? — on how I’ve always been expecting the end of life as we know it. So far, reality hasn’t cooperated, and I’ve been forced to blow up Life as I Know It on a regular basis all by myself. Maybe it’s a guy thing. Anyway, those few acres of fields and woods between Still Pond and Betterton were resources that could be put to good use in the coming years. I used to think about it way back then, although the specter of millions of starving lunatics migrating down the New Jersey Turnpike or swimming across the Chesapeake Bay to kill me for my last can of soup was one of the things that drove me to New Mexico. Here I’d only have to beat off a few neighbors, but then again, people have traditionally always been on the edge in el Norte, so maybe we’ll all get along.
Housing & Food: These could well be issues for tens of millions of people very soon, and few of them know it. I think about it all the time, then say to hell with it and drive to the supermarket like everyone else. Some day the supermarket shelves could be empty (or more likely, the chain goes bankrupt), and most of us are helpless, ignorant dweebs when it comes to widespread 19th-century skills like growing and preserving our own meat and vegetables. The amazing thing to me is that when I was younger and dropped out to go live in a shack in the Ozarks, I was right… only 37 years too soon. Jesus, I DID it, once — had goats, chickens, fresh water, and land — then rejoined the party. Now I want my chickens back, and they’re all dead!
Housing? Gotta be passive solar with photovoltaics, and we don’t have that yet. We’d need to rent such a place, anyway — but can’t you see the owners wanting it back? Eek.
Funny Money: Don’t get me started. My brother converted his 401k plan to cash, partly on the strength of my apocalyptic ravings, which saved him from a precipitous decline in the Dow. But what with the government funneling trillions of dollars to the banks and criminals who created the mess in the first place, that cash isn’t looking so safe. You can’t eat gold, either. Meanwhile, my mother and aunt, who had substantial resources lined up to pass on to loutish, undeserving heirs, have lost half or more of their manipulative “estates” by not letting go while their bodies are still warm. You know, when this lout could have made that loot go jump and shout. It’s like they held on to those dollars so tightly, the eagle died! — just like my chickens, dammit, dead and gone, one way or another. What a shame. (Man, those 1971 Ozarks are looking better all the time…)
Enlightenment: Now, why would anyone worry about enlightenment? Because I’m still doing everything the hard way, obviously, and great humor and humility is required for grappling with the other items. Anyone can see that, right?
There, I feel better. The universe is an everlasting source of joy and abundance. Onward into Monday!
Related posts:
- Dead Cars, New Vibe, Paranoia [revised]
- Turning Dead Zones Into Bohemia
- Two Birds in a Tree
- My Landlord Isn't Dead
- Day of the Dead
{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }
John,
Its never too late to resurrect those old skills. So you’re looking for a new place to rent – look for one where you can raise some chickens, grow some veges and stockpile some food and water. I’m in the process of transforming my backyard to a garden that will grow preservable foods. I may sneak in a couple of chickens if I can figure a way to keep the neighborhood cats away. I’m also going to learn to hearth cook and wash clothes without electricity. Read Crisis Preparedness. It’s a great guide on how to get started. Stock up now while the supply still exists. Do you still own the 2.5 acres in Maryland? Move back. Sounds like Taos has turned out to be a major disappointment – other than the scenery – which is not edible. Or maybe I’m just jealous that when I look out my window in Oklahoma all I see is suburbia rather than majestic mountains. Keep the great photos coming; your readers really enjoy them.
I’m definitely working that angle about the next place we rent. As for those 2.57 acres, they’re long gone!
Taos hasn’t turned out to be a “disappointment,” not at all, but it’s a very harsh place to live compared to gentler climes, and we’re both in our 60s, which means another relocation would wipe out what little we have in the bank. Don’t think I haven’t thought about it, but geez: after nine years here, we finally have some new friends… Life can be very, very good here, too, if you’re slotted into the right living situation.
You’re also not the first person to say that one can’t eat scenery.
However, with the sands of time running out on my ever-more-ancient body, I feel I need as many majestic mountains as I can get.
The story isn’t over, by any means. I can’t see moving back to MD, all we had is gone, and hell, I like it here. MD is also the original source of the burning rage — we used to live just a few miles from where my father grew up — a place I might revisit someday to knock over a few tombstones! What does still pull me are small rural towns in the quiet middle of the country, although there are plenty of those in NM as well. Frankly, I think “moving” at this stage is more of an avoidance mechanism than anything else, so let there be mountains…
Sounds like a plan. Hunker down and make it work where you are. Exactly what my husband and I are doing. Can’t afford to move to the “country” – still have to make a commute to jobs every day – so learning (okay, just reading about, at this stage) new skills where we are. Good luck and I’ll keep reading.
Hunker down and make it work where you are.
I think that’s about the size of it.
This self-sufficiency angle has another side to it, also. We can’t all do everything, right? So neighbors and communities will have to organize, show each other how to do things, figure out who can do what best, what to trade for food and services. This could actually end up being a really good thing.