It is done. I have told my marriage story. Now what? There is so much to write about. So many ideas, books, movies, authors, gurus, experiences, songs, memories. Not a day goes by that I do not add to my endless list of writing prompts, meaty downloads to which I can give myself over once the bones of my marriage have slow-roasted to a dark brown caramel and gently simmered in my tears, their essence extracted from the once-living marrow through the alchemy of fire, water, and filtration.
The pieces of my past that might have gone to the trash have instead been tossed in the stock pot, enriching with nuance the final demi-glace that will inspire and nourish me as I embark on the next delicious chapter of my life in this body. What might have leant bitterness to the final jeux joined the compost pile, passing through the chickens on its way. Life begets life which begets shit which nourishes new life which begets more shit, and eventually death. You don’t get Life without some kind of stink as a byproduct. Might as well fertilize a rose garden. Or, in keeping with environmental responsibilities, a mini-forest of drought tolerant trees.
I might have planted my forest five years ago when I moved in, had it not quickly become apparent that my brand new house was already falling down and would require major reconstruction. It seemed prudent to hold off on land improvements until that was sorted out with the builders, but here we are five years down the road and yet to appear before a judge. I need to be amongst trees for my mental and physical health, and since I cannot travel to the trees anymore, I must bring the trees to me.
In addition to my personal needs, I feel strongly that every homeowner with a bit of land has a moral responsibility to plant as many trees as possible, and that all plants, once established, require little irrigation beyond that provided by Southern California’s intermittent rains.
Andrew Chesla at Moon Valley Nurseries has for 2 months been helping me design a drought tolerant forest of trees and hedges for the hill behind my home. Our final walk-through, in which we will flag the location of each individual plant, is Monday. Planting begins once all danger of extreme heat has passed, late October or early November. I am giddy with excitement.
The reality of my situation is that, while I left my marriage with a court-approved settlement, XDH apparently has no plans to pay the full amount, and between this and the law suit with my builders, I am going to require a source of income. Virtually all traditional work being out of the question due to my health requirements, some out of the box thinking is called for.
Five years ago, during a deep outdoor meditation, the Universe gifted me with a vision of my future garden. I have had visions and knowings since I was very young; visions of possible futures often come in dreams or during meditations, while others are felt as a knowing. They always come true.
This was a clear vision of my hillside garden as an entertainment and healing space. It began as a sparkling white xeriscape and has since filled out with tall Laurel hedges, Live Oak, Elm and Eucalyptus trees, purple Salvia, yellow Lantana and every color of Bougainvillea.
I have some experience in and talent for landscape design; if I plan this right it is conceivable that I could rent my back yard for parties, ceremonies and meditation workshops. While this will require a larger up-front investment than I am particularly comfortable with, the potential return is more favorable than the stock market, and I know without question that a tree garden will improve my health and vitality, which are priceless.
Present Moment Living does not mean doing every little thing that comes to mind without logical consideration. Rather, it is a matter of listening intuitively to your heart-voice, blocking the voices of fear and doubt, and turning your gaze toward the myriad possibilities that are currently beyond your imagination. It is about allowing the Universe to manifest in three dimensional form that which your heart has been whispering.
Since early 2020 my heart has been whispering “go write under the trees,” and I have heeded the call, taking my writing materials to public and private gardens, parking my trailer under ancient canopies from Big Bear to Tennessee. Since my Scoliosis diagnosis however, I have come to realize the extent to which travel negatively impacts my MS symptoms; every away-trip, no matter how near or far, has caused a flareup; I am only consistently healthy when I stay home, eat my own food, and fill my days with physical therapy, reading, writing, playing with the dogs and caring for the garden.
XDH locked me up October of 2015. I have thus been harvesting shit for eight years, waiting on XDH to see the truth of what he has done and make amends, waiting for the divorce to finalize so our family can heal, waiting for the builders to do the right thing and give me the money to rebuild my home. I can hover in limbo no more, inhaling the stink of low vibration corporate hustlers. It is time to sink roots into my present, to plant something which will nourish my future. Let the fertilizing begin.
