Tag: Wonder

Consider this a footnote or two

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

I have several pairs of identical thick wool socks – all gifted, by the way – that I’ve worn the majority of the time since moving Way Downeast, summer or winter. You can say I’m quite fond of them and their cushiony effect. But then, the other day, one pair finally wore out – under the heel in one and a toe in the other.

Emotionally? Oh well, it’s about time. Or, I definitely got my mileage out of them. Or, in response, I could elaborate on my belief in having multiple pairs of identical socks so that if one gives out, you’ll ultimately have a new match when one in another set gives way.

Instead, I was left facing a situation where that didn’t exactly fit my model. Or, what is that people say about if the shoe fits?

Parts of my life I likely won’t be doing again

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

For me, this stage of winding down, or at least refocusing, includes recognizing realities of aging and finances while living in a remote area of the country. Here are some things I’d say are in my past, no matter how actively I pursued them:

  1. Hiking to the top of a mountain.
  2. Climbing a ladder more than a few steps.
  3. Hearing a full symphony orchestra in person.
  4. Ditto for attending an opera.
  5. Peyote, psilocybin, or acid. Not this far after taking up meditation.
  6. Some of the easier hatha yoga positions. Forget even attempting the harder ones.
  7. Writing and revising another novel.
  8. Sending out resumes.
  9. Camping in a tent or out in the open under the stars.
  10. Prolific orgasms.

This one doesn’t seem that long

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Or so I keep muttering to myself when I realize I’ve lived here on an island in Maine longer than eight other locations in my zig-zag life’s journey. Somehow, looking back, those others feel more action-packed, dramatic, even influential while this one seems to have flowed by more gently and quickly and, yes, more pleasantly overall.

This, of course, is Eastport, my remote fishing village with a lively arts scene at the easternmost fringe of the continental United States.

The mere idea of writing from an island in Maine strikes me as pretentious, yet here I am, far further east than the others, and I am here year-round, whatever.

My habitations of shorter duration were all in my 20s and 30s, largely career moves one way or another and mostly taken as professional stepping stones to something higher, though the next move was rarely the one I anticipated. This, in contrast, is in my 70s, with any dreams of next steps largely evaporated. Rather, I’m savoring an awareness of culmination, even if the big successes I desired ultimately remain vaporous. Especially the bestseller rankings or critical approval or genius grant recognition remain vaporous.

Add to that the fact of time going faster the older you get, something I’ve previously remarked on here at the Barn.

Returning to the thought of residency, the three longer locations in my route were my native Dayton (20 years) before I set forth to other fields, and then, finally, slowing down again in New Hampshire, with 13 years in Manchester and 21 in Dover.

I’ve been attentive to what I have in all the turmoil.

How relative is time, anyway?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Let’s consider fourth place, as far as length in time. That is, realizing that I’ve been dwelling in Eastport four years now strikes me as a bit of a shock. I’m finding it difficult to make sense of the fact, at least in light of earlier landings.

Quite simply, I’m still settling in here, even if it’s in my so-called sunset years. And, yes, I’m still feeling this is it, a very suitable end of my road, even if I am being greeted by name by people I don’t recall knowing, this is in sharp contrast to earlier locales.

For perspective, those shorter spans were in my early adulthood: Bloomington, Indiana (four years in two parts); Binghamton, New York (1½ years, in two parts and three addresses); the Poconos of Pennsylvania (1½ years); the town in northwest Ohio I call Prairie Depot (1½ years); Yakima, Washington (four years); a Mississippi River landing in Iowa (six months); Rust Belt in the northeast corner of Ohio (3½ years); and Baltimore, my big-city turn and turning point (three years). You’ve likely met many of them in my novels and poems.

Looking back, each of those addresses was filled with challenging turmoil and discovery, soul-searching yearning as well as glimmers of something more concrete and fulfilling just ahead.

In contrast, my longest period of living anywhere was Dover, New Hampshire (21 years), my native Dayton, Ohio (20 years), and Manchester, New Hampshire (13 years).

Suicides along my trail

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

I’m reflecting on the list – a best friend ever, a lover who was more passionate about me than I was of her, a woman I dated once and then backed off, the leading anthrax researcher who stayed with us for a weekend or week, the PhD naturalist from my high school (and brother of my first real girlfriend), even my ex- fiancée’s scarred wrists. Add to that the LSD physicist attending our Quaker Meeting or the French-Canadian Catholic up the road in Gonic, and the list of suicides along my life pathway has more examples than I would have expected even without getting into the many people I’ve known along the way but who vanished after.

It’s a dark side that’s usually overlooked but probably more common than anyone admits.

More and more my curiosity involves the question of life itself rather than matters after death.

I’m taking one mystery at a time, as it happens.

Aurora borealis watch

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

A first attempt to photograph the northern lights using my cell phone. It does look like a sunrise except in the north. Next up is time-length exposures using a tripod and remote shutter. That’s when much fantastic color that isn’t seen at the time by the naked eye is detected.

I’ve even bookmarked the two-day forecast to keep me posted.