Going to the mountains is going home.
~ John Muir
xcept that it isn’t raining.
Adjusting to life after Alaska has been surprisingly difficult. At first I thought it must be the staying-up-until-midnight-because-it-looks-like-it’s-only-six habit + jet lag + the return to a lower elevation + the unexpected emergency room visit just three days after my return that was draining my energy and yet keeping me awake.
Now I suspect, that in addition to all those factors, my recurring insomnia, ennui, and ongoing fatigue is also the result of what I’m calling “sanctuary deprivation.”
Drawing from a Dry Well
In the deepest recesses of my heart, I am an introvert. Quite often, I draw energy from being around people, especially people who send me positive vibage. What? Shakespeare made up words! But after a while, I need to find a quiet place to be alone to just meditate, re-center, and rest. If I don’t, I get blue and cranky.
Being in Alaska was such an interesting experience, one that changed me on a deep level. I was surrounded by people, but they loved and accepted me. And then I had moments of blissful alone time to absorb and reflect and create. It was the best of both worlds ~ my two sides coming together perfectly.
As I mentioned last week, having a sanctuary is absolutely essential ~ to everyone, but especially to artistic souls. And while my time in Alaska was healing, the dry well that had become my soul had many months of drought to overcome. And sadly, I do not have a permanent sanctuary here at home. So what little water had refilled the well has already been depleted by constant over-watering (smothering) and excessive heat (negativity).
Consequently, I am dangerously close to drawing up only sand again.
If Wishes Were Horses. . .
At this stage, I am not sure what the solution is. My ideal would be to move somewhere with majestic mountains, gloriously green vistas, a waterfall or two, and hardly any people. But financially and job-wise, that isn’t practical. Plus, I still have to be relatively close to culture and my positive support system.
Introvert and extrovert, remember?
The next ideal would be to own and run a bed and breakfast on an old farm. That way, I have a short commute, I get to wake up, be creative and hospitable, and meet new people. And I can schedule alone time. Actually, this should be first on my list of solutions because it really is one of my dearest dreams. So dear, that when I read about a couple who is doing just that, the woman sounded so much like me I couldn’t continue the article. However, like most dreams, this one isn’t practical right now either.
The biggest problem with both these ideas is that they are doable, but only in the long term. I need a short term save or the well will run dry, the crops will die, and I will be facing the creative and emotional equivalent of the Dust Bowl.
And there my friends, is where I am stumped. And I very much fear that until a solution can be found, I will continue to stay in the Land of Nod only three to four hours a night.
Oremus pro invicem,
Are you suffering from sanctuary deprivation? How are you surviving? Any ideas to breaking the drought cycle?