Lists

     I have started the final round of list making concerning my upcoming voyage. What to mail.  What to buy here, because it's too expensive to buy in France.  What clothing to take.  What extras to have.  What checks to write ahead of time for bills that will come due while I am gone.  I have to get to France just to get a respite from all the lists.

     It makes me wonder just how the pioneers and immigrants made it across the continent and the oceans.  I wonder if they made lists, too. I might suggest that perhaps they didn't have to struggle with so many possessions.

     Every morning I start the day with a to-do list.  It's a compulsion.  It's not all bad, for it gives shape to my day and allows me to feel like I have accomplished something during my waking hours.  I have to write this list first thing in the morning, even before I write my three journal pages.  If I don't, my "morning pages" turn into a to-do list and that's not the point of the pages.  Sometime  in the near future I will look inward and really examine this need to make lists and then mark through them with red lines. What would happen if a day passed by and I accomplished nothing?

    Certainly the list is useful for making sure that nothing essential gets left behind.  Lists of clothing.  Lists of toiletries. Soap, toothpase and shampoo-- I can buy in France. Clothing and shoes would be iffy.  I am so much larger than the French. Finding shoes would be especially problematic.  And a list of electronics--and the chargers and batteries associated with them.  Headphones? Probably not. My favorite CD's (at least as of this moment)--probably not.  Instead, I will load them on to my computer; that way I will have them.  Kindle, camera, laptop....There have to be some benefits to all these gadgets--but saving space and weight in my luggage doesn't seem belong on that list.

 

     I am happy to use list-making as a tool, but has it become an end in itself? I am trying, in this new phase of my life, to become even more self aware and to be mindful; however this learning to just "be" is taking some work. I am hoping that my upcoming days in France will help.  I don't want to  get so busy making lists of things I have to accomplish that I miss the smell of the river and the sunlight on the castle walls. 

    

    

    

Butterflies

     I am down to my last two weekends in Brookings, and the butterflies are building in my stomach.  Have I managed to make all the arrangements? Have I attended to every detail?  God, this is really going to happen!!!!  After all the years of dreaming, of fantasizing, and months of planning and making arrangements, of cutting cords, this sojourn is becoming a reality. 

     I would be a liar if I didn't confess to some fears.  I think we all harbor some fears of the unknown and I certainly am not immune to them. That might shock some people. I think the difference is that sometimes we can allow our fears of things new and strange and yes, even uncomfortable, to stop us from doing something we've dreamed about. I can't tell you how many people have said to me, "You are very brave."  It doesn't feel like bravery to me; it feels like something I have to do.

     I guess my fears are the normal ones: what if I hate it (I can't really imagine THAT, but I guess it could happen)--what if I never make any friends (again, I can't imagine THAT, unless I never go out and participate in anything.  However, one of the first things I plan to do is find a choir to sing with)--what if I mis-order something at the market (Really?  Who would let one mangled meal ruin a stay in France?) Or maybe the greatest of all common fears--What if I get lost? A very wise old woman said something to me 40+ years ago--How can you be lost when you don't care where you are going? I have tried to live by those words and I have never really been lost. And besides, I am not afraid to ask for help.


    
     So, when it comes to butterflies, I need to remember that they are beautiful--colorful, magical, and often breathtaking.
 

                                                    
                                               

What to Pack?

     Does everything in life boil down to suitcases?  My other blog was about putting down the bags I have been carrying through life.  Now I need to distill the next six months of my life into a carry-on bag and one checked piece of luggage.   Traveling alone presents a certain set of problems in terms of luggage logistics.  It's not like there is a partner to watch your bags while you go to the restroom. Your suitcases have to come into the stall with you.  So, I want to minimize the number of bags I have to juggle and yet be prepared for almost any weather eventuality.  One checked bag and one carry-on. I HAVE to take my laptop as part of my carry-on. I will put in a change of undies and toiletries in there and all the rest goes into the checked suitcase. I also don't want to have it so heavy that I can't manage to wheel it from the airport to the train station. 

 

 

 

     Fortunately, Jason, my Carcassonne landlord has very kindly offered to allow me to ship a box to his house, and he will see to it that the box comes to the apartment.  I checked with the post office about size and weight restrictions. The box can weigh no more than 66 pounds and needs to be no bigger than 108" combined length, width and height.  I have no intention of shipping 66 pounds... I would like to keep my weight around 15 pounds.  That will cost around $70 to ship, which seems reasonable.  Into that will go my winter boots and an extra pair of shoes.  Perhaps my table easel.  Will I really need that?  Maybe I would be better off to use the space for clothing.  But I would rather take writing and art supplies. Remember, Charlotte, the goal is to travel lightly.  

 

     I also have to remember that I will be on the East Coast for a week.  I will want to do laundry there before taking off to France; I don't want to take dirty clothes to France. 

 

     Oh brother, I just had a trial run for packing the box....20 pounds.  It will cost $85 to send it, probably, which is still considerably less than what it would cost to check the suitcase on all the legs of the trip coming and going.  But that gives me three pair of shoes, my bedroom slippers and my winter boots and my bathrobe, which while it doesn't weigh much, is very bulky. Won't the French douaniers be pleased to open this?    I took out the blank notebooks, which weigh as much as a pair of shoes.  I will put them into the laptop bag, along with my camera and my address book.   

      The time for decisions about what clothes to take is rapidly running out. I have decided not to take my heavy winter coat. I checked the Carcassonne weather, and I believe that I can get by with some layers and my raincoat. There's a washer/dryer in the apartment, so I don't have to pack tons of clothing. A couple of pairs of jeans, a skirt or two, some sweaters and maybe a few short-sleeved shirts for the spring should do it. It's not as if I am going to the jungle or desert, someplace without stores.  If the weather is THAT dire, I will just stay home! 

 

     There is only one household item I am taking with me--my kitchen knives.  I ordered a knife roll--polka dots no less--to bring my kitchen knives with me.  I can not live in a kitchen for six months without sharp knives.  I ordered it from Sur La Table, one of my favorite kitchen ware supply stores. www.surlatable.com  (Somewhere I saw it referred to as knife luggage.)  I will be able to chop and dice all those wonderful southern France vegetables as I learn to cook like a Frenchwoman. 

 

     Isn't this the essential question-- If I can live for six months with just these things, what am doing with all the things that I am leaving behind in Brookings?  Do I really need them?  If not, why am I hanging on to them? 

                                               

 

Dreams Deferred

When does a deferred dream become a dream denied?  When do we finally give up yearning for something because we have "gotten real?"  At what point are we too old, too poor, too ailing to  strive for something we dreamed of when we were young?  At a certain age we can see more clearly that our position on our life's path is a sum of all the choices we have made, all of the forks in the road we have taken, as well as those left untrodden. For everything we chose, something else was lost.  Is it just part of maturing or does it erode just a little of our psyche to give up what we once dreamed?

 

Maybe it depends on just how badly we want this thing, and what we are willing to do or to sacrifice in order to achieve the end.  I once dreamed of going into outer space, but obviously not enough to take the necessary steps to become an astronaut.  I dreamed of learning to speak Russian, but was swayed into taking geology instead. I am not sorry, because geology has been a lifelong interest, but wouldn't it be nice to.........(insert your own longing here.)

 

For almost as long as I can remember, I have wanted to live in France, if only for a short while. I never, ever gave up thinking about it.  I have moved heaven and earth to make it happen while I still have all my faculties and wits about me, so that I can enjoy it. I have made some sacrifices that many people would consider rash--retiring early, with a significant loss of income being the most obvious.  I just couldn't wait any longer.  When I tell people of my plans, their reactions range from incredulity to a wistful longing. It's almost as if "society" dangles the concept of following a dream in front of people, never really expecting them to bring said dreams to fruition.  Life's challenges beat people down.  Reversals of fortune, ill-timed circumstances, unexpected detours all conspire to force us to put our dreams on the shelf, where they get pushed farther and farther back into the closet of what might have been.

 

I say, let's pull that closet door off its hinges, give it a good cleaning and look in the clear light at what we've put on that shelf.  Some things probably need to be tossed out, but let's not give up on all our dreams.  They keep us alive, vibrant, and interested in living. Maybe there still is time to learn Russian.