Enjoy Your Town

Yesterday was one of those days you wish you could seal in a bottle and reopen whenever you want.

We have been living in our hometown for almost 8 months now, after living away for 10 years. I have been wary of the possibility that the novelty of it all would wear off eventually. But yesterday reaffirmed that I really am happy to be here. It also taught me, once again, that you can be content anywhere as long as you have the right attitude. It is a simple concept, but one that can be convoluted and difficult to uphold. In fact, it was the simplicity of the day's activities that made it so special, and I believe that simplicity is at the crux of maintaining the right attitude about where you live.

This season, our business, Chace + Smith Photography, has had the opportunity to shoot for the nearby Whitetail Ski Resort. Because the day was supposed to be clear and mild, Ryan (my husband) decided to head up to Whitetail before dawn and try to capture some great sunrise shots for the company. I met him there around 9:30 a.m., as he was finishing up, to snowboard with him for a while. Mind you, we both snowboarded for free since Ryan works in the repair shop at the resort, and I have managed to get my hands on a few vouchers. If this weren't the case, we definitely wouldn't be able to take advantage of the resort's proximity to our home.

The sun was out and the first signs of Spring were in the air. We whipped down the mountain, filled our lungs with the fresh air while riding the lift, and felt 20 years old again (I always feel very connected to Ryan when we snowboard together). Around noon we decided we had better get back to town (and to work), but since we were feeling free and spontaneous, we thought we would stop for a pint and split a sandwich (keeping in mind that we are trying to live below our means) at the tavern on the square in Mercersburg. We drove the beautiful drive back with the windows down, sat at the bar at Flannery's eating our lunch, and talked to the various people we knew there. My sister, who works at the restaurant, happened to stop in. She joined us at the bar for another beer. I felt very connected to my community, enjoying its slow pace as the sun streamed through the tavern windows.

The rest of the day was balmy and relaxed, partially because of the weather, but also because I had allowed myself to get away from my routine for a bit. Everything seemed to flow; the fun was cheap, adventurous, and whimsical. It was a great day.

We live in a town with two stoplights, with under two thousand residents. Fun can be had anywhere (even on a Monday). Enjoy your town!

What makes your town or home special and fun?

Where Is Your Water?

Photo © Ryan Smith

Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire begins: "This is the most beautiful place on earth. There are many such places. Every man, every woman, carries in heart and mind the image of the ideal place, the right place, the one true home, known or unknown, actual or visionary. A houseboat in Kashmir, a view down Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn, a gray gothic farmhouse two stories high at the end of a red dog road in the Allegheny Mountains, a cabin on the shore of a blue lake in spruce and fir country, a greasy alley near the Hoboken waterfront, or even, possibly, for those of a less demanding sensibility, the world to be seen from a comfortable apartment high in the tender, velvety smog of Manhattan, Chicago, Paris, Tokyo, Rio or Rome - there's no limit to the human capacity for the homing sentiment."

When I was attending Berklee College of Music in Boston in the late 90s, my lyric writing teacher, Pat Patterson, began every semester by asking each of his students where his or her “water” was. He would explain that salmon have a homing device inside their nasal cavity that collects a tiny bead of water from the stream in which they are born. As they make their way to the ocean, then begin the long journey back to spawn in fresh water, this bead allows them to know when they have reached their home waters once again. Though I am not sure as to the scientific evidence of this, I am still drawn to the idea of each human having a “water.”

During the two semesters I took lyric writing with Mr. Patterson, I would invariably say “Mercersburg, Pennsylvania” when asked where my “water” was. At the time, I was dreadfully homesick for my hometown, and the life I had left behind, and these emotions only strengthened my homing instincts toward this place. Since then, I have had the great fortune to add several other locations to my list of “waters.” I am open to the idea of having several, though if I had to pick one, Mercersburg would be it. It is my one true home.

This place holds all the dear memories from my childhood, growing up in the most wonderful family, with siblings I enjoyed playing with (so much so that when we would have a snow day and got to stay home from school, it was the thought of getting to play together all day that made us squeal with delight, not necessarily the snow). My mother would have classical music playing, or my father jazz. The smell of cooking food floated through every cranny of the house. All was right in the world when we were together in our house on California Street. This was before the tough years of college, when I couldn’t understand why I should leave my family who I wanted to spend every moment with, and the town I loved so much. It was before the realization of many big dreams, and enormous responsibilities. It was the simplicity of living that I have sought ever since. It is the reason I returned again and again, and now the place in which I wish to stay, possibly forever. But I had to swim to the sea to know this.

Other locales that are near and dear to my heart?

• Highland Lake, Warren Center, PA - a magical summer home for my whole family, relatives, and cousins on my mother's side. I have spent whole summers there, or just a week at a time, throughout my life. This place is literally and metaphorically one of my most precious "waters." It's a close second to Mercersburg.
  
• Bainbridge, New York – hometown of my Mother, and the place where I continue to spend my Thanksgivings and Christmases. It is the Currier and Ives, picture-perfect image of Yankee winter holidays, and a place I continue to develop a relationship with.
• Walton, New York – hometown of my Father, where my Grandparents’ big, white house was the muse for big imaginations, lots of baseball games, picking blueberries, and walking through sunny fields and gardens.
• Moscow, Idaho – where I finally escaped the confines of city life in Boston and experienced for the first time the vast, natural beauty of the Northwest, met wonderful friends, explored my hippie/outdoorsy side, and learned about the many inner workings of the two-year-old (12 of them at a time, actually).
• Austin, Texas – my second “hometown,” where I still live in my dreams, longing for the excitement of this charming city when life on the “farm” seems slow; where many long-term friendships were formed, and where my relationship with Ryan was given the room it needed to blossom into a marriage.

Of course, I can think of many places I have traveled to or visited that sparked a flame in my heart, but never had a chance to get to know beyond a brief, albeit lovely, encounter. Regardless, I am continually piqued by the instinctual nature and influence of the homing sentiment in our lives.

As Pat Patterson would say, “Where is your water?”

Time On My Side, Part 2

When I made my resolution about reevaluating my relationship with time, and lowering my standards of how much I get done with my time, I was on vacation and had less on my to-do list. Now that I am several weeks into January, and have much more on my list, I have found this goal to be much more of a challenge than I had foreseen.

I think the big issue at hand is that I still “assign” myself too much. I am fighting my perfectionist urges (remember, I am a Virgo and first-born child) and trying to keep up with what “needs” to get done all at the same time. It’s a vicious cycle. And I often end up approaching certain tasks joylessly such as, “Oh god, I still need to send a baby gift to so-and-so, and I never seem to have time to sit down and knit that baby washcloth that I am making to give a meaningful gift and save money.” Do you ever have these thoughts? I mean, I seriously stress about this petty stuff!

I think this morning I am heading into my day with the urge to “pare down” my list to what I really feel will truly add value to my life and take me further toward my macro-goals.

I wish to let go of all the micro-management tasks that seem to pile up and send me into a frenzy of “I have so much to do,” which is not a pleasant feeling and often entirely untrue. My husband will often catch me walking through the house with furrowed brow, sighing while deep in thought about all the things I “have” to do. My stress often gets passed on to him, and that is not something I am proud of.

But can I just take things off my list without feeling guilty about not doing them? I know I have control over my thoughts and how I perceive things. But it’s often very difficult to harness those runaway, reeling thought patterns and focus on what is important – to focus on what I have accomplished, not what is left on my list.

Resolutions take time, so I will keep you posted on how I take on this challenge for the sake of bettering the quality of my life – and those around me.

Do you have any thoughts to share about how you perceive time? How do you pare down your list?

Migrations of My Youth

My husband and I have made some relatively significant transitions in our young lives thus far. Apparently I had a secret yearning to live the life of an Army brat - though my parents are teachers - considering that I have moved all over the country since leaving home after high school. First came Boston, then Moscow, Idaho, then Austin, Texas. I feel fortunate to have sampled so many diverse regions of our great country; I have rubbed elbows with cowboys and cowgirls, Mormons, Mass-holes, hippies, and yuppies. From the East Coast to the Third Coast, I have become well-versed in moving my life around and making big transitions.

What does it mean to move? To migrate? To transition? I have found that it has most often refreshed my spirit and forced my eyes to see new things I may have missed before - about life, people, my country, etc. Any notion of a schedule goes out the window for those days/weeks/months during which you make the transition. It is also a perfect way to break down any semblance of a comfort zone one may have instituted during a settled period.

Likewise, in migrating, I have met many migratory people. These people, including myself I'm sure, seem to view life from a wide-open perspective, allowing people into their lives with ease knowing that to make the time in a certain location memorable, you must "love the one you're with," so to speak. My migrant friends also seem to be very good at staying in touch, perhaps more than my more settled friends do. We are invited to each others' weddings, send each other Holiday cards, and make the occasion phone call just to talk. Oftentimes, I end up speaking with a far-away pal more frequently than one who lives just down the road.

What is an aspect of moving that I am not so fond of? Potential for years of something best expressed in Portuguese: saudade, an amalgamation of longing, nostalgia, homesickness, yearning, particularly in regards to a place one may never return to. I knew that I would return to my roots from time to time, for visits and vacations, but would this place always linger in my heart in such a way? Would I ever be successful in moving back for good? And would it be all that I had hoped an dreamed it would be? For there is a certain romance and mystique surrounding a place for which one might experience saudade. I feared that I might return to this place and find myself wanting to leave again, forever searching, longing, and migrating.

So far, my transition home to Mercersburg, PA, to this place I have longed for, though I cannot always explain why, seems more resolute than others, especially now that we are moved into the farmhouse. It is a rental house, but a house nonetheless, one where we could grow a family, live below our means, and save for the future. There is much promise in this house. Whether my Army brat tendencies will start to itch, only time will tell. For now, I just want to be here, sit in this quiet, spacious house as the world spins around me, walk along horse pastures and watch deer as they watch me, unblinking - let my late 20s be a time to contemplate migrations of the past and the stillness of today.

Ryan and I play with Sadie during our first snow

Our new home!

Creature Comforts (Part 3): Paring down, Thankful Eating

This topic happens to fall on the week of our national Thanksgiving celebration. I write this from my Grandmother’s house in upstate New York, where my family has gathered over good food and drink to give thanks for all of life’s bounties. I was initially going to entitle this post, “Mindful Eating,” but upon realizing that Thanksgiving is but a day away, I will deliver my simple message via a short prose, so that I can get back to celebrating with my family, and so can you.

I love to eat. Food is undoubtedly one of my favorite things. I admit, however, that I don’t always “respect” everything I put in my mouth, most often because I am aware that the ingredients may not be all that wholesome for my body but at that moment I am too tired, too hungry, or too transfixed by the sweet, glorious crunchy sugar coating (for example) to care. What follows is usually a mindless devouring of the food in front of me, briefly satisfying as it goes down my throat. But in the end, I am left with an empty hole in my gut, as if the food I just held in my hands was only a mirage in a vast, empty desert. This is a habit I work hard to change, but I can't always expect perfection. Special occasions such as Thanksgiving, however, are great opportunities to put change into practice.

This Thanksgiving, as you sit down to this special meal with your family, take a moment to look at each delicious item on your plate. Imagine the time and energy that has gone into each bite. Think about the people you love who have prepared it, and if you took part in the preparations, give thanks – to God, to the universe, whatever your preference – for your ability to help. Be not just mindful of each bite, but thankful as well. Consider this your one chance to enjoy each bite, chewing slowly with focus and intent. Consider this likewise your one chance to observe the people who surround you, giving thanks for each of them as you enjoy this meal together. Do this today and everyday after.

After all, taking one day at a time, one bite at a time, and one celebration at a time, is the essence of paring down. It means choosing simplicity, but never accepting an empty hole in your gut – the great paradox of balance. So if you love your mother’s pumpkin pie that you get to eat but once or twice a year, don’t deny yourself that extra slice. Being thankful means relishing as well as slowing down. It means filling the void with simple gifts.

Happy Thanksgiving!
Larissa


How do you give thanks everyday?

Creature Comforts (Part 3): Paring down: SHOPPING

Photo Ryan Smith ©

Continued from Paring Down, an introduction:

In regards to shopping and material possessions, how do we pare down without denying the happiness that can come with abundance?

I’m not going to deny it; sometimes money can provide happiness. As much as I am proud of my frugality and aptness at paring down, buying new things does provide a certain satisfaction when it comes to embracing and expressing my identity. But it is the simple enjoyment of each item I acquire that allows me to be mindful of when I have enough and when I just have too much.

I know a lot of people who buy something just because it is on sale. This is an easy way to quickly attain too much. I try to go shopping with a list of things I need (and “need” is subjective isn’t it?) and only buy those things. If something is on sale, great! If not, I usually base the level of need on the price and either take it or leave it. I try to be a selective and mindful shopper; as I hear my products beeping across the scanner at checkout, I pretend I am a kid in a candy store, ogling at what I am able to buy.

Ultimately, balance is the goal here: my $300 pair of cowgirl boots from Austin, Texas is one of my most prized material possessions. But though they sit on a shelf to be admired, I wear them (and dance in them) several times a week and have them repaired and cleaned often. Lesson: splurge when the time is right, but cherish the heck out of the purchase and admire it daily. Once you stop admiring or wearing an item, which often happens, give it away. This will de-clutter your mind and your closet, providing a new perspective on the wonderful things you still hold dear.

Also, take the time to go through that overflowing attic or that spare room full of stuff you’ve been meaning to sort through. Donate or recycle anything you no longer wear frequently, or that no longer serves an aesthetic or emotional purpose in your home. You will hopefully find that paring down is even more rewarding than filling up your shopping cart. Don’t save it for a rainy day! There’s no better time than now to initiate positive change in your life.

P.S. This also applies to buying gifts. Give fewer, more meaningful gifts – be excessive with warm complements and good cheer!

What are your most prized possessions and in what ways do you cherish them? What are your shopping habits and how do you pare down in regards to material possessions?

Creature Comforts (Part 3): Paring down, an Introduction

“In spite of illness, in spite even of the archenemy of sorrow, one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in big things, and happy in small ways.”
- Edith Wharton

After a brief interlude, I continue my Creature Comforts series with another idea about how one might find a happy medium between comfort and precariousness. This topic will be presented in several parts since it is one worth deliberating on. Within these parts, I will hash out the notion of paring down: What does it mean to pare down in a society where more equals more? How can we pare down in a way that doesn’t deny us our happiness? And what’s the point? This section will serve as my introduction, followed by several posts that provide specific examples of how one might pare down.

“Simplify Life” is a notion that has gained more and more prevalence during the twenty-first century thus far. With all the choices available to us, and our burgeoning consumer habits, we are crying out for simplicity in the hopes of finding a more wholesome way to nourish our souls. As a culture, we often look back on the “good old days” as examples of how simple and easy life used to be. Things tend to seem as though they were better back then. Problem is, the people living “back then” looked to their pasts for the same inspiration. Thus, we must find ways to carve out simplicity in our present lives, lest we trap ourselves in an endless web of nostalgia. This can involve giving up some of our creature comforts, but in the end I truly believe it is worth the sacrifice.

Despite the heralds of gloom and doom about the shrinking middle class and lack of sufficient health care, my life as a North American feels downright cushy. Perhaps part of the reason I feel this way is due to my sunny disposition; I don’t often want for much and am generally satisfied with what I have. But I did indeed grow up in a country where it is easy to live comfortably, speaking subjectively of course, on teacher’s salaries. My parents, both teachers, had four children, and though I couldn’t always get the outfit or toy that I wanted, my basic needs were met and I had a blissfully happy childhood (no lie!). Essentially, I learned to rejoice in small ways and dream about big things (like the quote above). I believe this is the crux of the debate about frugality, prosperity, and simplicity in our abundant and plush society. It is the moral to this story.

So, what is the point of paring down?

I am going to be a bit extreme here and say it is our responsibility to pare down in everything we do day to day. It is our duty to limit in any ways we can the strain we put on our natural resources. Sure, spending bolsters the economy and we, as consumers, are what drive this capitalist machine. But it is easy to get more than we need or ask for in our society, e.g. whopping helpings at restaurants. Gladly, it isn’t hard to break the habit of accepting blindly what is placed in front of us. The point? Paring down is the simplicity we’re searching for, and it is not as hard to attain as we might think.

I look forward to reading your thoughts and comments about this topic in this and the following posts. Enjoy this great day!