Exciting times for the Harmon 5!

Living as a member of my family is never boring.

Even during the times when life has been so many things we don't want it to be, boring has not been one of them.

Keeping up with the trend, changes - big ones - are moving into the Harmon Household. Ones so big that I guess I should say Harmon HouseholdS.

As my brain, eyes, and fingers are working in conjunction to type this, the five of us have one more day of living together in this house where we all currently sit (or lie down, as I think I'm the only one not in bed). !!!

When we moved in here, I published a prediction on this here blog that that move would be the last one we'd make as a whole family. I put that up for the world to see with great trepidation despite my certainty, anticipating that I might have to eat my words some day, like I usually have to do when I fancy myself a fortuneteller. But it turns out I was right!

Starting Friday, my mother and littlest brother will officially be transferring their legal residency to the state of Arkansas, and he will be starting at the local public school on Monday morning! Austyn has only been home schooled to this point, so this is a new adventure for him. Gratefully, he adores adventures. My dad would be accompanying them, but he's still in graduate school, and transferring schools hasn't been feasible. So he will be joining them as soon as he can, while Calyn and I stay here. (Until we feel we need to go somewhere else, that is.)

"Wait a second?" I can hear you asking. "They're doing what? Your parents are living separately? Who does that? And why is Austyn going to school now? If your dad can't transfer and Austyn needs to go public school, why doesn't he just go where he already lives? I don't get it." If you really do want to know the answers to these questions or any others, please ask me. There are reasonable explanations for everything (mostly). But I won't take the time to share them here. What I will say is this:

My family has never let what someone does or might think stop us from doing anything.

We're not so over ourselves that the consideration of such things never enters our minds. It does. We may or may not even mourn our reputations as loons sometimes. But when sacrificing whatever good impression we've made on the world is required for what's important, we'll do it. Cringingly, perhaps, but done all the same.

I'm excited! Each of us are moving into good things that have been long-awaited. But there's a part of me that wants to temper the excitement. "Hey, you, you've lived with your family for 25 years, and now it'll never be the same again. Think about that. And even though that's not necessarily a reason to be sad, you love your family; don't be so eager to get rid of them. Appreciate them while they're here."

Yes. I know. I do appreciate them. Truly. However, life has taught me the beautiful truth that is expressed in Ecclesiastes 3: "To every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven." Melancholy though he may have been, Solomon was right. Everything has its time, and everything must end. Once you begin to understand that, you'll see how truly beautiful and right it is. At least I have. I find myself rejoicing at the ends of things just as much as I do at beginnings. But that's another post for another day.

I am truly happy about our new divergent seasons. Our lives will still intertwine. We're too close to stay away for long. But it's good to move forward. The possibilities this new reality has the potential to open up are almost staggering.

The first thing I'm going to do is sleep on the couch. (You can ask me about that one, too.)

Materializing.

It's right there. I can see it. I'm convinced I can feel it. My future. My life. New adventures. It's so close it's almost real, but then I grasp and remember it's not. Yet.

My optimism is so great, I don't know whether to feel higher than I've ever been before, or so deeply disappointed that something so extraordinary is tauntingly out of my reach.














The latter is always stalking, but my optimism is truly such that you could beat me up and I'd still give you a hug. Please don't abuse this privilege.

Don't know what's around the bend until I get there.

The Internet is marvelous. Writing has always been risky business, but now we have the ability to open a vein and let it bleed in front of the whole world instantly, with no chance to to clean up our mess after we hit submit.

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Marriage.

I have no peer-reviewed journals to quote, nor even a case study, so pardon me for speaking on this subject with so little authority.

In the general world of information I have absorbed in just 8 days short of 25 years, it seems to me that those who grow up under a bad marriage are often some of the most eager to enter into such a covenant of their own, and sadly so much of the time continue the tradition of their ancestors. Perhaps on one level they see the lack of fulfillment in the lives of their parents, and their whole being becomes bent on finding it for themselves. They swear this time things can be different for them, they will be different. They truly love their spouse, and their spouse truly loves them. Then somewhere along the way, something goes wrong, and they begin to empathize with their parents; a posture they never imagined they would take.

With such an insurmountable pile of evidence in front of them, you'd think they'd all be terrified, rather than anxious to plunge in at the first available opportunity.

There are many people on the planet who have experienced far worse than I have, but with just the tension I have been witness to in my own household, I'm frightened. The very idea of being married to anyone is almost enough to make me want to hide like a child. I don't care what's happening, if the subject is brought up, my mood darkens. I become prickly. That, my friends, is saying something, as I'm a rather prickly person when even in the best of moods.

That prickliness is precisely why I'm so uncomfortable with the idea of being married. It doesn't take much reading of this blog, or much time with me in person, to know I'm introverted. Introversion at its most basic level means being with people drains the introverted one, and conversely being alone is a source of recharging. My leanings are much more chronic than that, and at this point in my life, I want nothing more than to be alone. I love people. I really, really do. I even have pleasant, dare I say wonderful, experiences with people on a regular basis. Yet, even in the middle of those wonderful experiences, I can't say that I wouldn't rather be by myself. Or to dare put it more bluntly without the heavy veil of a double negative, I can say I would rather be alone. Always.

Marriage means 'one flesh.' I'm not even comfortable breathing the same air as someone for too long, how am I supposed to deal with someone being a part of me and myself a part of them? Always? The distress that would bring me is enough to make my self-centered insides pause for at least a moment, but more than that, if I know myself half as well as I think I do, it wouldn't take much for me to start resenting my husband. Even if he doesn't do anything, just by existing. I don't want to resent someone for existing, least of all the person I'm married to. And regardless of what I do or don't want to do, how is that fair?

In this whole frightening situation, added to the aforementioned severe inward leanings is an extreme dislike of conflict. I diffuse it by default. I don't even realize I'm doing it most of the time until it's already done. While I do think that's good in many cases, I do realize how quickly my husband and I would never get anywhere because I don't give us the chance for resolution. "If it's going to cause this much distress, let's forget about it" is my motto. It works like a charm until the charm wears off.

I live in a small house with four other people, two I've been with my whole life, one who's been around for 23 years, and the last whom I've been with for almost 15 years. I'm familiar with sharing space, and possessions, and time, and air. But no one has access to my innermost thoughts and feelings, the exact center of who I am. And I still make my own decisions. I'm still autonomous.





Or am I?





I depend on someone else for the roof above and walls around me. I can't do nearly as much as I imagine I'd like to do because I have to consider those four people at all times. And when I make large life decisions, my  first thought after conception of an idea is "What does my family have to say about this?"

Perhaps I've fooled myself into thinking I'm independent. Maybe if I realized I'm already much more attached than I let myself believe, I'd realize the thing I'm really afraid of is something else. I'm afraid of both what I've seen and what I haven't.

What "Stuff You Should Know" inadvertently taught me.

The next time I talk about starting to follow a new podcast, please provide me with a cautionary word.

"Hey, Emily, you know when you decide to engage with something, you have a penchant for immersing yourself in it and not looking back until it's done. Are you prepared for that at this particular juncture? You might want to reconsider."

Or if you don't want to use quite so many words, four will suffice. Simply say, "Stuff You Should Know."

A few months ago, I once again became not only a computer owner, but also Windows user. Before then, I ran Linux Mint, and while I did learn much and knew I was capable of learning more, I never did carve out enough time to successfully navigate the learning curve. Many neglected parts of my relationship with technology stayed neglected as a result. But as soon as the sparkly new Windows 8 was downloaded, I was overjoyed at the impending reality of reconnecting to one certain cherished aspect of that relationship: podcasts.

Being the daughter of my father meant that I grew up listening to NPR. Couple that with my preference for audio over visual, and it becomes clear why podcasts became such an integral part of my life as soon as I discovered them 7 years ago. It felt like one of the greatest discoveries of my life, and helped seal my unending fondness for the Internet.

I put out a call on Facebook for suggestions of what podcasts to subscribe to. I'm aware of quite a few, and could quite easily listen to only those and be satisfied, but as I felt like this technological reunion symbolized a new start to my life (Yes, everyone, that is honestly how affectionate I am toward the Internet - so much that engaging with it again felt like a renewal in the manner of repairing a relationship with an estranged loved one. No one is more amused/appalled by this than me.), it seemed appropriate to find something new for my ears to hear. Among the suggestions I received was one "Stuff You Should Know." I trusted the judgment of the suggester, and was drawn by the title promising two of my favorite things, facts and knowledge, most importantly a variety of each. I scoped it out on iTunes, then clicked "subscribe" after a few moments of perusing.

A couple months (maybe 3?) pass and here we arrive to today, the day I finished every episode of "Stuff You Should Know." They've published something near 500 episodes. Much of my life has been on hold trying to make it through all of them. My spare moments have been devoid of music. Replacing that has been the dulcet tones of Josh Clark and Chuck Bryant. Bedtime reading has been all but forgotten. I pulled out a book to start reading, and it sat on my bed for weeks waiting to be opened. Since opening, it has been even more weeks and I've barely made it through enough to say I began. When not occupied by obligations, all my attention has been given to this catch-all informational bi-weekly modern radio show. I obviously felt like it was worth pursuing, or I would not have stayed the course, but by the end I was ready to exclaim, "Enough is enough!"

When the last episode ended this morning, I felt like a whole world of time was placed into my hands. I'm still breathing relief in deeply.

I do this with everything. I should know better. Maybe now I do.

Hot Space #11.

A pressure cooker. You know the ones, with a latched handle, and bobber that bounces on the top of the pot spewing steam. That's what this season (for lack of a better word) feels like. Nothing penetrates, hardly anything escapes.

But Grandma just came by and tweaked the regulator. SSSHHHHHHHHHH was the sound of making cookies. SSSSSSHHHHHHH was the sound of writing notes to dear ones far away. SSSSSSHHHHHHH was the sound of working with my hands. Release was the sound of creating.

Welcome sounds they are.

But now it's time to reseal the gaps. Just a little while longer, I think. I remind myself the pressure is meant to bring good things. Like Grandma's roast.

At the top of the list of good things this will bring me is sincere, profound gratitude for moments without pressure.

Life smells like fresh bread.

I'm going to let you in on a secret. If you read this secret, congratulations! You're in the loop. All those other people out there have the opportunity to read and know, but they're not reading this, are they?

After pulling out of the job search for a while, I've begun again to think about jobs and business. My thoughts on this matter have changed much since my post-graduation disappointment. I no longer feel a desperation to do the first, easiest thing to come in front of my face. My willingness to do anything has not diminished, but the fear that I have to do anything (as in anything that may not be worth my effort and sanity) is gone. Or mostly gone. I'm in the frame of mind and spirit to pursue something less accessible, something that may not even make sense. Something that has the potential to be more worthwhile than working in a nameless cubicle or hanging drywall. (I've done the latter. I'm willing to do it for myself, or to help out a friend, but as soon as it became a job, I couldn't recall a time I'd been more miserable.)

My retirement from running after a job has also allowed me to experience life in its most basic elements. Fulfilling relationships, serving everyone, loving everyone, unwavering gratitude: these are things which make life a joy, and contribute to well-being of both mind and body. I've been focusing particularly on the latter in recent months, and let me tell you, feeling alive is so much better than eating cheeseburgers.

These things have combined in my head and heart, and what I find emerging are ideas for running a food-manufacturing business from my home. I've always liked to make food, but as I had little interest in eating it, and felt no other passion for it outside of the creation process, I didn't think much about wanting to employ myself in by the process of making it. But my mindset started changing as my diet started changing. I feel great, my mother is on the road to feeling well for the first time in many years, and in light of wellness, a new passion for making food has been aroused in me. I think I can help others with what I have learned.

A few weeks ago, I researched the laws Tennessee has set in place governing this kind of venture, and I gratefully found it is possible, and the provisions are more generous than I expected. Since then, my mind has been swirling with possibilities. It's been hard to know where to begin. I think my mind has settled, however, on specializing in bread. Bread is one of the most integral parts of our diets, so easy to get wrong, and it's these things combined that can make it so devastating to good health. People don't need to be deprived of bread, they just need to eat the right kind.

For me, the name of the game is still research. I'm nowhere near ready to start passing out loaves to my friends and neighbors. Thus as confident as I feel in this direction, every bit of this is still tentative. My other tentative plan is to at least begin taking requests for anything it's legal for me to make and sell at home to fill in gaps between bread sales, but in the interest of fruitfulness and longevity, I think it's important to specialize. This is particularly so in cases where I might sell product after it's made, like setting up at the farmer's market and selling pre-prepared things on the spot. People can't buy something at booth if it hasn't been made yet.

I have lots of other ideas (like wanting my business name and the name of each recipe I make to have something to do with literature and/or music), but I want to focus in on just having organized what it will take to get started, and get started well. I have a feeling many of ideas will stay in my head for a while, until their time to emerge. Or perhaps they'll stay forever. I have no idea how long I will do this, or how large it will grow. I don't see myself baking and only baking for the rest of  my life, but my future vision isn't great. I don't know what will happen with this. I still hold a desire to write. And sing. Perhaps I'll do all three.

That's my secret. If you have any comments, suggestions, words of counsel, I welcome them. There is still a long list of things to work out, and as I'm intending to create something for people, I need to know what the people think. Would you buy homemade bread? What kind of bread do you think you might buy? Would you buy something else? Have any charming ideas for names? Any words of experience to impart?

And if you're the kind inclined to pray, I would be ever so grateful for your kindness in talking to the Lord about me.

Is that the reason why you brought me here?

For a while now, I have been living my life to cater to the good of my family. When someone says jump, I jump. When I was stuck at home and saw we were floundering with nothing to eat, I took it upon myself to find out how to save as much money as possible so we could have groceries in the house. And I sincerely felt like it was important for me to hunker down and listen, wait, and serve until time was ripe for change.

But every once in a while I sing, and I feel alive, alerting me to the fact I've been lacking life unaware. Every once in a while I hear from a friend, and the familiarity I feel from connecting with them makes me realize how much of a stranger they've become. Tonight, I spend more time online than I have in a while, and the movement of my fingers typing words gives me a thrill I didn't realize I was missing without the regular practice of writing.

I've been passively disengaging from all these things for the good of my family, but I can't help but wonder if I'm doing them or myself any good by letting my vibrancy fade.

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One thing I do know for sure is I want to live now more than I've ever wanted before.