recent discoveries.

Recently I took up temporary residence in a studio apartment in downtown Thiviers. The hotel was complete after Sunday, and the maitresse d’hotel offered a small apartment in a building they are renovating. It cannot be leased fully because the stairwell is not finished yet. I accepted with the thought that the fee would minimal.

While the fee of 40 € is less than the hotel (60 € a night), at 280 € per week, it is not exactly cheap. When I shared the cost with my new builder, Jean-Yves, he exclaimed, “Ahhh….EXPENSIVE!!”. We have agreed that somehow, I must be set-up in my house by Monday so I only pay one week for the apartment. Every week takes valuable resources from my renovation project. And adds to my financial anxiety.

Getting me set-up primarily means hot water. This small project has led to wonderful discoveries. We are relocating the hot water heater (chauffe-eau) from inside a smart little room destined to be a sun room … assuming there is no hot water heater on display … and into another smaller room which will be my laundry room and pantry. This little sun room is an odd shape, nearly pie shaped and was camouflaged with horrendous linoleum and a false ceiling, sagging and bruised with water marks. On one side there is a lovely old door, the top half with small paned glass windows and next to the door another window. An old homemade skylight, about 3’ x 2’ is set into the ceiling. Dismantling the hot water heater led to ripping out old, asbestos filled wallboard which exposed … drumroll … lovely stone walls!!! We were so encouraged by this excavation that we continued to the ceiling and exposed … drumroll … lovely petite beams and wood ceiling !!! Finally, carried away with ourselves, we ripped up the god-awful linoleum and rotting subfloor to discover … drumroll … old wood planks that can perhaps be restored to a floor. Joy of joys … I envision the ceiling and floor washed in white, offset by the amazing old, buttery stone wall. Lastly, when the pocketbook permits, installation of a real, more watertight skylight.

I feel like I am on my own excavation journey. This one small room, its discoveries all occurring on our first day of work, has been a boon to my experience.

I confess I am still battling uncertainties. I imagine many of you are baffled by my whining on this topic. Actually, I am not really whining. Instead, I am thinking out loud! HA. Also, attempting to express the gamut of emotions associated with being a corporate dropout going through a reinvention process.

It isn’t all tra-la-la and tiptoeing through the tulips. Rationally, I can express the reasons the American corporatization of society imbeds fear and cynicism into our everyday thinking. One would think that because it can be expressed, all feelings associated with the process would be eliminated. In my case at least, not so. I also think it is okay, normal and to be expected. Of course also worth working to diminish, if possible.

So little things like discovering small projects that require naught but hard work clearing out the dross and some elbow grease and paint to unveil a lovely enjoyable space … well, those little things are HUGE reassurances, especially financially!

And really, the central source of my underlying anxiety is my longer term financial security. But don’t we maintain a low level anxiety regarding finances as a permanent part of our daily lives in the U.S.? The establishment of a NEED for THINGS .. an expectation of acquisition, resulting in indebtedness and to a certain degree, financial enslavement. That is a primary source of the control of the masses. Our government, the media, the business powers that control our economic situation .. all conspire together to create an ongoing state of economic instability in our society as part of their campaign to instill compliance with the status quo. Now I don’t mean active conspiracies where representatives meet behind closed doors for strategy sessions (although nothing would surprise me …). Rather, they rely upon each other for ongoing prosperity and choreograph activities accordingly; it is critical that the population cooperates to maintain the status quo.

So I do battle with inner demons to quell the fearfullness instilled by this reality.

I was introduced to the concepts of The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz by a life coach and close personal friend, Kathleen. I am an irreligious person, an atheist in fact. But that doesn’t mean I reject all thoughts of a spiritual nature. We all have our own ‘codes’ by which we live. I have a nifty little set of cards based on The Four Agreements, which allow me to meditate a bit on a precept to consider. Today’s seems particularly helpful to my current situation. Bear with me as I share it with you … maybe you too will take something from it.

“Take your life and Enjoy it!

You are alive, so take your life and enjoy it. You were born with the right to be happy, to love, and to share your love. Just to be – to take a risk and enjoy your life – is all that matters.”

Oh. And here are a few pictures for you restless masses. (notice I put them on the end in an attempt to make you Adult A.D.D. types read my post. ha.)

the future chambre du soleil ...stone wall, skylight and petite beams













the now living room, destined to be the kitchen and dining area ... leads out onto a tiny attached hothouse room/atrium (next photo, not so good) and then the first garden ... *sighs at the beaty and wonder, lol*





the petite atrium

courage. adventure. endurance.

my great-grandmother Margaret (Stangl) Carter was quite a woman. I was given cause to think of her today when reading Halfway to France's comments on not being a wearer of pants. Shocked at the revelation, it made me think of my great-grandmother who for years refused to wear pants. That led me to comment about even a woman who lived in sod houses and prairie times eventually gave in and made herself a pair of polyester pants. Then I started thinking about Margaret. (see how my mind works? I mean rambles? Think YOU find it irritating, pity me ... I've had to live with this all my life!)

Anyway, back to Margaret. I'm going to tell you a little bit about her story, as I know it ... passed down through the years and maybe not 100% accurate. but I'm sure 98%. Well, I'll guarantee 95% and in today's media, that ain't so bad.

Margaret came from a big family in Austria. I mean, she had like 7 or 8 brothers and sisters. She lived in a castle. I used to think that was romantic until I found out they lived in rooms in the castle. Which was old and decrepit. But anyway. Margaret had an uncle who had emigrated to the United States. In 1911, when Margaret was about 14, her uncle Josef and his wife Bertha came back to Austria for a visit. He offered to take any of the family back with him when he returned. Get them set up. He had a big ranch in Java, South Dakota. Well a big property. Farming and animals and the like. And no one to really help him. He had a wife, but as I know it ... they had no children.

Well, no one in the vast Stangl brood was willing to take up Uncle Josef on his offer. No one, that is except Margaret. Margaret thought this sounded exciting. "Weren't you scared, Grandma?". soft chuckle. "Well, I thought it would be an adventure you know. And Uncle Josef promised to send me back in four years." So not one of those other Stangl kids, including the many boys took the trip. Margaret's mother made the uncle promise 2 things. He would send her home in 4 years and he would make sure she remained a Catholic.

Margaret slept with her aunt the first year she arrived, as she was afraid to sleep alone. Margaret didn't speak English and her early years of adapting were hard. But she did it.

Well, the years passed and WWI erupted and there was no return in sight for Margaret. No Catholic church either. Margaret caught the eye of a handsome son on a neighboring horse ranch. Floyd Alan Carter was taken with Margaret when they crossed paths at a town dance. Floyd was enlisted in the Army but the war ended before he was sent overseas.

Margaret and Floyd married. They lived in South Dakota for many years before tiring of destitution in the tough land. The moved west to Roseburg, Oregon.

Why do I prattle on about Margaret? well. the talk of women and pants got me thinking about Margaret. She never returned to Europe. She never saw her mother, her father, her beloved brothers and sisters again. She never worshipped again in a Catholic church. She slowly lost her native tongue, although I can remember her singing in German. and speaking a few phrases. She and her family wrote back and forth in the early years.

I often asked my great-grandmother why she never returned, later in life. There were a number of implausible excuses, the plane ride (she eventually had done and there was always a boat). The money (in later years, they could well afford it. Even as tight as my great-grandmother was!).

I wonder did she use up all of her courage in that first journey. As tremendous as it was ... did it change her in ways I'll never understand? Margaret Carter was a woman of endurance. I think her life ended up being a series of challenges to be endured. Endless ship ride. vast plains and prairies. sod houses. unforgiving dust and dirt and wind. multiple births. only one daughter alive. I also know she had an enduring love for her husband and family. In the end, endurance was adventure enough.

I come from a series of enduring women. I, too, am a survivor. Unlike my great-grandmother, I'm discovering my courage for adventure a bit later in life. I hope I do as well as Margaret.

I have some pictures to rustle up and share a bit later.