That’s what a niece said after Mom died and left a gaping hole in our family fabric. “Now what?”
So, it’s 2024. Now what?
So we didn’t enter a recession in 2023 as many predicted. Now what?
So we are entering another presidential election year. Now what?
So I’ve lost people close to me, feel my own mortality, and wake in tears sometimes.
Now what?
We gradually mend the holes, and we notice. Just notice. That’s what.
We notice the disaster that didn’t happen. Our fears about what might happen. The emotions that we want to stuff, and the stuff we don’t want to notice. We simply notice. Notice it all. Too simple to work, you say? Depends on what you mean by “work.” Simply noticing does work, for me, by taking the power out of fears and making room for acceptance. Then growth. Even joy.
It’s a start. And a start is all we need…and then another. We take the next step, and the next. Just like doing The Great Loop, or building a house. Step by step. And each step is a new start.
I’ve been listening to War and Peace, the epic historical novel about Russia that any “well-read” person is supposed to read. (It’s only taken me 65 years! 😉 ) What strikes me most is the recurring themes of humanity through the ages – the good and the bad. We have always stumbled, rose up, stumbled again, and sought meaning through it all. It’s helpful to notice that, too.
Happy New Year — or, as the Finns say, Hyvää uutta vuotta! I don’t make New Year’s resolutions as such, but I do resolve to honor my ancestry more intentionally. After all, I wouldn’t exist without them, and they all live on in me. In a future post, when I’m back in the snowy north, I’ll explain my grandmother’s migration by reindeer-drawn sled. Yes, really!
As usual, photos and captions below…
Speaking of building a house. Here’s the Cabin at Many Moons a few days ago, in an uncharacteristically brown U.P. winter. (It’s white today, though.) While I’ve been abed for much of the holiday season with illness and dental reactions, Jeff has been plugging along with interior work, including….
….installing the toilet! (A Kohler, 360-degree-flush, chair-height, if you’re curious.) So now there’s heat, a working shower, hot water and a toilet. Ready for visitors? Not quite, but getting closer!
And today, he lit the burn pile. It’s an annual winter ritual because there’s always trees and brush to burn. (We have taken down so many trees in the past five years. I wish I had counted them, but well over 200 by now, including small ones.) The building process also creates waste, which is carted off to pickup trucks that receive our garbage at designated spots on designated days. Too bad we can’t put it in the burn pile.
I’m missing the waterfront on Huron Bay but there are beautiful waterfronts here, too. Like this, in Washington DC. Noticing beauty in one place doesn’t mean you can’t notice it in another.
During The Great Loop — 6,000 miles at 8 mph! — we saw many so beautiful waterfronts. I remain grateful for that experience and all it taught me — about parts of the U.S. I didn’t know well, but also about myself. Challenging? You bet! Like I said, step by step. Or mile by mile…
Sometimes we forget that others live step-by-step also, and have different ways of showing it. I’m grateful for visual reminders like this. My Mom sent me this doll years ago, when I was in the Navy and way too old for dolls. This was her way of noticing me. Loving me. She never recognized my service directly, or asked me about it, or congratulated me on promotions. But she sent me this! Her way of saying “I see you.” I’ve tucked this doll away for years, in the back of my office, and today I noticed her. I noticed that this was a step, by Mom, toward showing more love. (I know she always felt it.) Yep. Step by step. Notice that! Thanks, Mom. You have taught me more than I realized. And your teachings will continue. Funny how that works!
Nice post. I know your mom’s loss is a big hole in your life. That’s what happens. It’s natural when our loved ones leave us behind. And you eventually ask of life and yourself, “now what?” It’s what you should ask. Hopefully, you never get to the point when you say, “so what?” Happy New Year, Mary.
I think ‘so what?’ in this context, hints at giving up. There’s a time to do that, too, but not because you’ve lost one you’ve loved and relied on so deeply. That’s the time to live and honor them. I think of Doug every day but it isn’t sad. He brought me to this place, and it’s been a great ride. He’s come along in my heart and it’s been a string of ‘now whats?’. When I say, ‘so what?’, I’ll be on my death bed.
This blog really spoke to my heart, Mary. Family is my rock. It took me a long time to recognize the love from my mother that came in the form of harsh discipline or endless chores, or to see the sacrifices that she made for her 10 children. 20 years ago this month, I lost my mother and now she is ever present as my guide and confidant. And I am grateful to have noticed what was left unspoken.
Nice post. I know your mom’s loss is a big hole in your life. That’s what happens. It’s natural when our loved ones leave us behind. And you eventually ask of life and yourself, “now what?” It’s what you should ask. Hopefully, you never get to the point when you say, “so what?” Happy New Year, Mary.
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You would know about loss.. everyone does, eventually. Happy new year!
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I do love that twist on “now what”….
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I think ‘so what?’ in this context, hints at giving up. There’s a time to do that, too, but not because you’ve lost one you’ve loved and relied on so deeply. That’s the time to live and honor them. I think of Doug every day but it isn’t sad. He brought me to this place, and it’s been a great ride. He’s come along in my heart and it’s been a string of ‘now whats?’. When I say, ‘so what?’, I’ll be on my death bed.
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This blog really spoke to my heart, Mary. Family is my rock. It took me a long time to recognize the love from my mother that came in the form of harsh discipline or endless chores, or to see the sacrifices that she made for her 10 children. 20 years ago this month, I lost my mother and now she is ever present as my guide and confidant. And I am grateful to have noticed what was left unspoken.
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I screamed Hyvää uutta vuotta! too when my toe struck the bedpost. Or something like that.
Best to you!
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