I could also have titled this post as “One more day that didn’t go as planned.”
But that would be so dull and repetitive. Instead, I am focussing on the idea of autonomy. Today, my Plan A was x-country skiing on the rail trail. Simon offered to drive me to Slocan and pick me up after a couple of hours. But it started snowing – the heavy, wet, sticky stuff that’s mixed with rain at lower elevations. In other words, not the conditions you want for gliding on skis.
Now what? Well, I knocked a few little chores off my list and went through my list of literary agents and prepared and sent one proposal. Then lunch and a walk with Simon and the dogs at Bannock Point. It was good to get out.
But all day I’ve been simmering with frustration. It’s not huge or explosive – it’s just there under the surface stewing enough to make me want to pull out a few hairs and question my very existence.
Like I said – not a big deal.
Let me explain. If it weren’t for the fact of winter road conditions – today I would have most likely driven down to Strawberry Pass and snowshoed on the Seven Summits Trail or, more likely, up Mount Crowe. I would have worked my body hard and come back feeling good and mellow and ready to settle in for a full day’s writing tomorrow.
And it isn’t necessarily that I was out there working my body that would have made me feel so good – although that plays a big role – but the fact of just doing what I want to do when I feel like doing it without depending on someone else.
In one of the Excellence Series of courses I did years ago, one of the exercises we spent considerable time on was discovering our driving needs and naming our greatest strength. Mine was clear as a bell – autonomy. It has always been my strength. It’s the quality that has allowed me to go on adventures without a second thought: travelling alone through Europe more than once; travelling alone to Aruba and Switzerland year after year; hiking on my own without a second thought; camping solo on Phillips Ridge; living on my own for many years in complete contentment – never feeling lost or lonely.
Simon has been supportive and wonderful. If I ask, he will drive me anywhere I want to go. But that’s not what works for me. It helps – I can get out – but I want to get out in my time on my terms and go anywhere at all.
So – I’m simmering.
All that aside, I also know how to make it all work. I’ve got bread baking today and a big salad to make and I have more ideas to turn into stories – a good book to read. I have all these things and I know how to focus on them.
In a way, this whole autonomy thing feels like a first world problem. But it’s mine and mine alone – and it’s up to me to figure it out. And I will.