seed saving/"rest"

salvia

at 9:50pm on september 29th, one month ago, i opened up a new post in blogger and typed the words "seed saving" into the text entry box. i intended to sit in the dark dining hall, take some pleasantly deep breaths, and enjoy settling into the rhythms of thinking and typing whilst reflecting on a day spent on my porch in the sun, sorting and processing the savings of my first full season farming. perhaps i would even drink some tea. a quaint thought which never quite materialized, as that evening*, like the many which preceded it, i somehow or other descended back into the haze of often frenetic busy-ness that has characterized, until quite recently, the last two or so months of my life.

*aside 1: likely on this occasion, i remembered that i needed to purchase a mattress, a goal which i had been trying to accomplish for several weeks. following not one but four telephone calls to my mother to confirm that the dimensions sounded correct (adjusting back an inch in both width AND length to accommodate bedding??), and that i was not making a terrible mistake by trusting mattressinsider.com. happily, i should report from the far side of this decision: i was not making such a mistake, friends. let us just say that i have been sleeping very comfortably on the few nights i have spent in burlington since commencing my slow (and not-yet-quite-finished) move. far better than the days (as some of you may recall, or indeed relate to from shared experience) of sleeping on the floor. not that that wasn't also fun.

nicotiana

anyways, yesterday, i found myself cathartically recounting these last two or so craaaayyzy months to a dear friend who we all know and love. we sat across from each other, drinking hot chocolate watered down with splashes of coffee that was several days old (essential to save for such occasions), at the round, dark, water-stained wooden table which i've now had the privilege of being acquainted with for a third stretch of time. as i told a long, meandering tale of a seemingly endless succession of days, my friend gently and humorfully cajoled me for needing to give myself time to rest. one day a week, they suggested, where you have truly nothing planned. i resisted the notion. two such days a month! they pleaded. i bargained, but conceded that such an approach would probably be nice.

it's not that i don't understand that rest is good and important. it's not that i don't cherish and covet the freedoms of an unplanned day. i occasionally experience them and they are so great. but perhaps it is so that i haven't recently prioritized designating time* for myself to simply exist and move slowly around, to be "lazy" and do nothing, to get bored and restless, to wander around on the internet, or any otherwise restful-to-the-point-that-you-are desperate-to-be-doing-something-else-or-otherwise-fall-asleep activities. 

*aside 2: i emotionally resist this phrase ("designating time") but did write it.

cupflower (very tall)

the number of occasions that i have told myself that i will, after work and dinner, download a movie and lay in bed watching it and drink a warm beverage is uncountable (but at least five); the number of times i have actually done this in recent memory is one (i saw the tv glow; it was technically the weekend and i watched it whilst in the bath). i will give myself credit for drawing more often for fun, and for many summertime and autumnal hours dancing in my room, and for some books read, over the past little stretch of time. but i will also admit that recently, knowingly, i have generally done a poor job of resting, even by my own warped standards.

chives

certainly what has been difficult is this: it has felt like my obligations – both voluntary and otherwise – and a greater-than-usual consistency of emotionally intense and occasionally stressful happenings demanding my attention and action, have simply and truly necessitated very full days. i actually haven't been able to conceive of any other way besides looking out towards each coming week knowing more or less what i will be up to on any given afternoon for the foreseeable future. gratefully, this is no longer currently true. and simultaeously, this phenomenon has also coincided with a relatively creative period in my life, during which i've enjoyed setting my pilot g2 aside (but momentarily) and using a pencil (yeah!!) to sketch out completeish scenes and subjects, and occasionally playing with other people's very nice digital cameras.

*aside 3: my beholden creative curiosities aside, it is also true that i owe this artistic shift/evolution – at least in part – to other people asking me to draw things for them. i've noticed that these occasions have allowed me [to give myself??] the "time and space" to take this thing that i find myself doing for fun/idly a little more seriously. maybe the way my mind works is that i need to encounter a convenient excuse to entertain the possibility that certain things are worth pursuing with a certain amount of discipline and consistency (see: my use of the word "indulgence," my inclination towards "projects"), and make intentional space for them in my life accordingly. not that i wouldn't have arrived at this notion eventually, especially when it comes to drawing, but: it has been helpful to be asked to do something that i already enjoy. and to have someone follow up with me about the outcome, and encourage me kindly.

peanut butter on toast

back to the activity in question: seed saving.

morning glory

i should say that my afternoon spent processing and sorting seeds i'd saved was "rest" time i gave myself en lieu of driving two and a half hours away to hike mount washington with a friend and her friends. at the very last minute i told them that i couldn't join and felt quite badly about it. even though i knew quite well that it was the right call (i'd been strategically budgeting my sleep for the nights that week that were closer to the trip). even though i know this felt logical at the time (it was newsletter deadline week!!! plus other things), i do admit that this sounds bad (not a moral failing but not a great way to think about sleep). but please believe me when i say that sitting on my porch sifting through my various collections of seeds for most of the daylight hours was a restorative activity. that said, i was still doing all my laundry at the same time, and i did reach a point where i was feeling like i'd rather be doing something else, but finished anyways.

ultimately i think that i am tired of trying to do too much. even though all of it feels important, and though often the things i want to do are in the name of fun. it results in such outcomes as: being so emotionally exhausted that for months i could not bear to spend any time or mental effort imagining or planning my upcoming travels. indeed: complaining (craziness!) about said travels because i felt unable to conceive of or desire any post-craftsbury reality besides moving myself directly into my bed in burlington and never leaving. (for so long i have been grasping so tightly to the concept of that precious time there, as if it will somehow save me and be exactly what i need. ultimately, it is eleven days and nights of unstructured time in a new place, and it will be just fine, and hopefully also nice).

in the meantime, i'm still not even there [burlington] quite yet, and i am only just starting to feel like things have stopped happening enough to give me a little break. seeing good friends helps. taking a nap in the middle of the day yesterday was also very pleasant. (i do know what rest feels like and that i like it). but how do i learn from all this and avoid the breathless chaos in the future. ponder with me if you wish.

seeds for 2025, maybe