Chaos or Creativity?

OK, maybe I'm a glutton for punishment. We're tearing apart this heirloom structure (built by grandfather!! decades old!!) and because that's not enough upheaval, I'm also trying to move. Unfortunately, it's not one of those "moving day is X" moves. It's "let's start with the office and do a little bit every day" moves.

Which is fine, really. This little-bit-at-a-time move is the best for me, for us, right now. For one thing, have I mentioned chainsawing up the flooring in the camp and the whole renovation thing? For another, my family is still clearing up our parents' estate after our father's death in April. There are to-dos from that, plus there's some serious psychological work of "letting go" of stuff that has always been around in their house but I don't need it around in my house! Plus my husband's house is still full of furniture, photos, boxes, and assorted memorabilia from when his children and late wife lived here.

So I have too much going on to also pack up all my stuff and bring it to a place where there isn't room to unload it all! Hence taking one room at a time.

The downside is this approach means that all parts of my life are chaotic at the moment. I was hoping in September to have some time to set up my business plan for the next year (that academic year is hard to let go of), which will include applying for a grant, finishing two projects that are "on the go" already, sending out old material, and even--gasp--writing new stuff. That could still happen in September, once my office is finally moved. Maybe September 30.

Meanwhile, I'm trying on a new pair of rose-colored glasses. Instead of feeling as if my life is chaotic, I'm trying to imagine that it's in a creative space. This time, which feels like disorder, is just the time when the paint is getting mixed up into the new color that will represent me, married, living here, writing full-time again.

They say that childbirth is anything but orderly. I hear it includes screaming from the creator and the created. I don't necessarily need to scream. But I'll be letting go in many parts of my life during the next few months, and that will probably have painful moments.

But at the end, I'll have a new phase of my life to nurture. The structures will be solid. My life will blend the old and the new. As will the flooring in the camp: new beams and joists, combined with old, covered with new plywood supporting old walls--and decades of memories.