I am up early and although usually a morning person, I am a grumpy, unwilling one. Sleep and I have a tumultuous relationship so I relish any blessed hours of slumber.

One of the benefits of exchanging a full-time career with a myriad of part-time work is a flexible work schedule that can accommodate intermittent bouts of insomnia. I used to complain about poor sleep until my first bout of insomnia; there is a big difference between not sleeping well and not sleeping at all.

I have a clear view of the moon out the back door. It is in its waning cycle, a healthy quarter hidden from site. It appears ghostly and ephemeral, light waving gently between the top boughs of the pine tree. We are on our way to the new moon.

This first phase after the full moon is called the disseminating moon, and we are meant to distribute or share something we have learned. This moon phase promises clarity through sharing, and after the intense sensations of the full moon, it’s an opportunity to share and then let it go.

A Dusty Gem

In the spirit of dissemination, I would like to share the first item I bought for the cabin. It was tucked away in a dusty corner of a flea market, wedged between velvet artwork depicting a mournful clown and a Bud Light neon sign.

Besides the mournful clown that almost made it into the car, this was the sign I needed; I’d been having my fair share of doubts about purchasing the property especially after seeing Dave’s spreadsheet of needs. The message was spot on. It made me laugh behind my mask which caused me to cry a little bit, which forced me surreptitiously wipe my nose on my mask (hey, we’ve all done it).

I wish my fairy godmother had visited me at birth, waved her magic wand and tattooed that quote onto my backside. It would have saved me a lot of strife throughout my life. Alas, we do not choose when we receive gifts or messages. They arrive in their own good time.

Socrates and Smoked Chicken Legs

I believe the following is the actual quote. There is a small part of me that doubts Socrates said things like “…screws us up the most…” so if there are any historians or philosophers in the crowd, please speak up.

Is there anything more to be said after Socrates speaks? Not really, but I know Socrates’ spirit understands one trait guaranteed to remain in our DNA is the need to strut ‘n’ trumpet. After all, it’s the disseminating moon phase.

Oh, the countless times that I have allowed that ‘picture’ in my head to reign supreme. Every single time, when reality fails to live up to a technicolored picture of perfection, the 3 headed demon of Disappointment, Resentment and Bitterness rear up and bellow: this is NOT supposed to be happening!

For example, my inner vacation dialogue might sound like this: Wait a second, there’s not supposed to be a hurricane, I’m supposed to fit into this bathing suit/my thighs are not supposed to stick together, Dave’s not supposed to have raging diarrhea…

Another prominent picture used to be this one: Wait a second, aren’t we supposed to be living in Costa Rica by now, running a successful guest house on the beach, watching the sunset every night? I’m supposed to be happy all the time and Dave a strict vegan...

Total fantasy. Dave is unlikely to ever be a strict vegan. His love language involves rolling out the smoker on the back deck and loading it with different off-cuts of meat. Hours later, gazing lovingly above oven-mitt clad hands, he will present me with a plate of smoked chicken legs with a knowing look that says, yes, you are the luckiest woman in the world. If the smoker could sing, it would sound like Barry White.

Sobering Picture Dualities

In my experience, the less critical the dueling-image situations are, the more the 3 Headed monster surprisingly rages, as illustrated above. It’s not life threatening to have a crappy vacation, yet the monsters like to make a whole lotta fuss when really, who cares?

Life takes a harrowing turn, though, when the carpet is pulled out from underneath our gravity-lovin’ feet and we plummet into the abyss of shattered visions. I bet anyone reading this has experienced those moments. They are filled with loss and suffering, and are often the last thing we thought would happen. The scenarios are countless and many lead to the same thought:

This is not how my life was supposed to be.

A profound change rappelled into our lives shortly after we were married. As Dave and I sat waiting in well-known surgeon’s office, we could hear snippets of a conversation between the Doc and an intern right outside the door. I remember thinking, geez, at least I’m having a better day than that poor girl they’re talking about. In fact, I turned to Dave and said just that.

I think you can probably figure out the punch line faster than I did. You might rightfully ask, you were sitting in a surgeon’s office – what did you think you were gonna find out? My denial didn’t end there. Even after the surgeon entered, outlining the treatment plan and amount of colon he was going to remove, I was still thinking, yeesh, that poor guy is going to feel so stupid when he realizes he’s got the wrong girl. My colon is perfect because I drink green tea everyday, do yoga, take vitamins…

The picture in my head of what was not supposed to be happening was so strong, it oozed out a warm, comfy river of denial for me to swim in. The 3 Headed monster didn’t rear its heads to bellow and rage. A tiny voice finally just whimpered as it fell into the abyss, knowing life had taken a bit of a turn. Our first year of marriage would not be as imagined. Colon cancer sucks but learning a bit about the mettle of your marriage early on is pretty helpful.

Facing loss and recognizing impermanence takes courage. I love the following from Richard Wagamese in Embers:

You can’t test your courage timidly. You have to run through the fire, arms waving, legs pumping and heart beating wildly/ when you do that, you discover that we shine most brightly in community, the whole bedraggled, frayed and tattered lot of us, bound together by a shared courage, a family forged in heat of earnest struggle.

Authentic Structures

The karma cabin may not be perfect, but it is one authentic structure. I don’t have any illusions that it’s a 5000 sq. foot sexy lodge – it’s not. Yet its beauty shines through its many imperfections – mouse-poop strewn floors and drafty walls. It’s a work in progress and whatever it is meant to be, will slowly be revealed in its own good time.

That dusty gem from the flea market will remain in the karma cabin for all eternity. It will be a condition of sale when we are ready to pass on stewardship to the next generation. It’s message helps me to make peace with my past, and gives me patience and fortitude to face the future.

Whether it’s vacation ideals gone astray, cabin renos made difficult by dislocated toes, or situations far more serious and sobering, I hope we all find comfort in knowing we are surrounded and supported by others who are old pros in dealing with life pictures gone amok; we help each other to rebuild new, authentic structures.

The karma cabin is begging to have the final word:

Friend, your imperfect life is a symphony of courage and tenacity. Being a karma cabin might have its challenges, but being human? Well, that takes true spunk and spirit. Don’t be ashamed of your rotting window frames or the cracks in your walls and floors. After all, that’s how fresh air and light get in.

This post is dedicated to my incredible niece who just turned 18. She gives me hope for the future, as do many of her generation that exemplify grace and grit as they forge ahead with future plans despite the present challenges.

Don’t worry young friends, we will be there to catch you when the image of what life was supposed to be like turns out to be, well, different.

Who knows…It might actually be better.