What I realized at the end of it? Letting go is acceptance of myself.
Accepting all parts of myself, not just the "good" parts I like right
now. It means everything.
**
I've gotten a request to describe my physical surroundings. I suppose
it's warranted, given that I've been here, what? Three weeks? And
haven't posted any photos (still haven't figured out what the problem
is).
So, Lorinna. I first saw the house the last weekend in November when
we stayed for a night on our way back from the AGM. As we turned into
the driveway after hours in the car, the last of which were winding
down a one-track gravel road, it's hard to describe the relief I felt
at seeing the orange and red corrugated tin-roofed house down below
us. Even from the outside it was plain to see the care taken in
construction – all the thought into the aesthetic nature of a house
seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Now I know that many houses in
Lorinna are like this one – each one unique, whether it's strawbale or
wooden or rammed-earth. Many families have built or are building their
own houses, so I take special pleasure in getting a look at as many
houses as possible. Some have steps out of cuts from a single tree
trunk, some have elfen nooks and crannies, some are gargantuan
mansions with wrap-around porches and skylights.
This house I'm living in has wood floors and walls, stained-glass
windows in odd places (like the kitchen and high up in the office)
that add a touch of the human to it – who else but a human would
decide to put a window where no one can see out of it? There is an
abundance of cubbyholes, some finished, some boarded up, dirty and
dark inside, some used for storage – they're all different. The room
I'm staying in is two rooms – a small front room with a window
overlooking the drive, facing North (which is like South in the
Northern Hemisphere) where I meditate in the mornigns, and a large
room under the eaves, with a sloping roof where I sleep. There's also
a walk-in closet that's about the size of my room in Yosemite, and a
dirty unused storage room off to the right. In between is a tiny,
narrow, steep set of stairs leading up to a boarded-up turret-room.
This is a striking feature of the house from the exterior, since it's
the highest point of the roof, but that seems to be the best part
about it. Basically, it's dark and dirty. At first I was thrilled to
get the room with little rooms off it, and now it just doesn't matter
since I don't use them anyway.
I spend most of my time hanging out in the kitchen (big room, wood
stove for cooking, gas burners, sink, wooden countertops, large dining
room table and computer) and the sunroom, an added room that opens off
the kitchen. Slate tiled floor, wooden paneling and lots of windows
facing the drive, the garden and the forest. It can get quite warm in
the afternoon, and it's where I do qigong in the mornings before
anyone else is awake. Quite possibly the best room in the house!
Everything is green here – you have a feeling of lush abundance,
especially in the garden, which is growing quite the crop of weeds and
a few vegies. Looking out from the house is the garden and beyond, the
drive rising up a small grassy hill (mowed courtesy of the wallabies)
out to Ladybird Lane. There's a pond behind the garden as well, and
another one farther up the hill, neither of which you can really see
from the house. You just know they're there. Off to the right is more
lawn that's slowly being converted to forest, consisting of wattle and
gum trees of some sort. I had no idea, but there are hundreds of
kinds. Wow! The forest floor is covered in bidgee-widgees,
blackberries, tough sprigs of grass, gum bark...and leaves. It's not a
place you'd really want to stand in one place for very long, either,
since there are streams of ants, some bigger and more painful than
others, making their busy way over hill (rotting log) and dale
(buttercup patch). We've some non-native (I'm assuming) trees in our
yard, which the possums find so delicious they've stripped them of all
their leaves. Soon they'll be dead non-native trees. There's a wood
shed and a path down to the stream where the hydro dam is. There are
tree-ferns down there, sometimes 3 metres tall, and apparently every
foot takes ten years to grow. I've been thinking they would thrive in
Oregon!
Off to the left of the house is more grass, rolling down to a
temporary flat spot where I practice taiji barefoot sometimes, and
continues to a fenced paddock. Going up the hill on the left side of
the road is an overgrown orchard of possibly fruit trees – it's hard
to tell in all that grass, and they're still quite small. This is
where Emma keeps her ducks – in a little duck house, and it's the
highlight of Elly's day to let them out in the morning and put them
away at night.
Elly? You say? Yes, Della and Elly are here to stay for a few days.
Taking in the wonders of valley life!
Behind the house is more forest (or 'bush', they would say here. It's
all-encompassing, meaning anything not civilized) and that's about it.
We're on nine acres here, much of it taken over by blackberries.
Today we're headed to the Co-op for some socializing with the
villagers, where we'll see some other kids and pick up a box of
wonderful produce and mayhaps peruse the crowded co-op shelves for
some delight to hold us until we make another foray to the big city.
The Co-op is a shack, about 10 by 12 feet, chock full of organic and
bulk-type stuff. It's very cool the community puts it together, and
they staff it every saturday. Just down the road is the Community
Hall, a white building with a patio out front they're working on
tiling a chess board into. The hall is one main room, with a kitchen
off to the side. They have Wednesday yoga-qigong here, and Saturday
night movie/potluck night. They have a projector and a big screen!
Saturdays are community days here – Emma says she's given them up to
socializing. The rest of the time it's pretty quiet here, so social
saturdays fit my schedule!
The rest of Lorinna is lush forest and paddocks with the occasional
pond and flock of geese or herd of goats making their way through the
blackberries. Some people run cattle, and it seems like everyone has
chooks. We're quite close to Lake Cethana, which covers the bottom of
the valley, and many people live up the road, on the hill or higher up
where it levels out again. On a clear day you can see the top of
Cradle Mountain - a national park here.
We may, or may not go. It's just so... nice here.
