Posted by: Louise | October 25, 2014

lifed in the back of the head

I think a lot.

I could stop there. Enough said really. Growing up I was told I think too much. It is who I am though.

I think a lot.

I had a great thought this morning. It made so much sense – about life and the ‘more than’ and presence and the presence of absence. I thought I was the right side of half sleep, as I lay there in bed with my thoughts. I thought the clarity of that thought was so crystalline that it would stay fully formed as I raised my head of the pillow… but it preferred to stay in bed when I got up. Instead of explaining the meaning of life to K over coffee, I found myself struggling to describe the nature of thoughts and how much bigger than mere words they seem to be sometimes. Lucky him.

We drove west out of the city yesterday evening. It was dark and we couldn’t see anything apart from what our headlights illuminated, but we know this road. Have we passed the mountains yet? asked the Boy Racer from the back. The silent Astro Boy’s nose was stuck in a book. Watch out for that turn we always miss. Everytime. Everytime. Even though we know this road. It has become part of our journey. Miss the turn. Take the next little lane way that will bring you back onto the correct road. Drive on through the mountain pass. Now the sea is on our left and we wind our way out the peninsula along the wild Atlantic Way – a determining presence, but invisible in this dark.

Faces pressed against their windows, the boys spotted constellations and shooting stars. The Giraffe Princess (our Lunar child) has her own life these days. She is busy elsewhere, juggling several engagements, and the absence of her extensive social commentary and teenage indignation is noticeable from the back of the car. We arrived at last, beneath the Milky Way, drank hot chocolate and wine, before falling asleep (all of us) on the sofa as Lewis navigated the details of another Oxford murder on the telly.

We are crawling out of recession here in Ireland – apparently. We are crawling, mostly, our resources spent after six years of recession – working to the same expected standards of the pre-recession days with less resources, less pay and an ever dwindling reserve of rainy day money in the bank. Rainy day money has brought us here to this place with love, away from it all, out West. We are here to catch our breath, to gulp down the fresh sea air, to pause, before putting our heads down again and racing straight through to Christmas.

And so I have the luxury of thinking space, relaxing with K over breakfast space, exploring ideas space.

I want to take stock. After a lifetime tangled in self-doubt, I find I am starting to believe in myself. No road to Damascus epiphany, but the path has cleared sufficiently for me to look around rather than down at the gnarled roots and weeds. So I want to look around, take stock: What experience, skills do I have? Who am I in this place? How can I bring additional money into our family? …Because we are certainly not feeling any of the benefits of this ending recession yet.

A friend texted the other day – an ambiguous ‘ask her about something in work the next day’ text. It was a great idea. We could do it together. It could lead onto more. We had done it in the past – co-facilitated training workshops. We could offer team-building days. We have all the skills between us.

All we need is a publicity brochure, she said. We’ll have to sit down together and work it out.

I am sure I have some of that done on my computer from years back, I said.

She was surprised, had forgotten.

As I chatted with K this morning, recounting this story to him, I suggested that maybe more of these ideas for which I was searching were already there, waiting to be rediscovered. For a while there I just got lifed.

Yep, he replied, Lifed in the back of the head.

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