Journal -Crossing into 1975

December 28, 1974
Have been tramping about the game preserve for a couple of hours. Fixed a big breakfast late in the morning for the boys and all. After dishes and beds, got ready for my freedom march. My headache is finally gone, at least almost.
The sky is filled with a diaphanous gray overcast. Nush continues to be my faithful companion though twice I have put out my hand and called him Chip.
I’m sitting on a rock at present in the clearing I always think of as being a natural site for a cabin. Pools of water in a nearby rocky basin reflect tree and grass. The damp is penetrating but the air is as bracing as a cup of well water. As always, after long absence, I wonder why I have not been walking. The somber gray shapes and funereal greens of the firs and cedars are beautiful and austere. This doesn’t mean the scene lacks elaborate detail and even the unexpected. Some slender trees display tiny buds on their branches—or perhaps these are only bushes—but no matter. Their skeletons are brimming with spring plans and their secrets are showing. The Oregon Grapes are purple-red like summer plums, though some leaves are dull burnished green as well. Saw a few snowberries, a scatter of scarlet rose hips, and the sprouting of yellow and brown mushrooms. I love to be out here alone with my dog. It roots me in a soaring kind of way.
Last night went to sleep contemplating a great theory—probably acknowledging what psychology has already explored. How one’s childhood is so instrumental in the developing personality and that the kind of memories we hold on to, can tell us something of what we are, what we mirror in in our approach to life. A happy, confident childhood, I think, would tend to perpetuate some inner belief that helps us face failure and keeps hope alive. And yet there are those with resilient spirits who are beacons of hope no matter their childhood sorrows. I could go on and on, but am now too cold and sloppy to continue dripping down incoherent impressions.
The gray sky is darkening, so guess I’ll pack up my journal and head for home.
January 1, 1975
Have failed to write a lengthy introspective entry for the last day of 1974, but will at least compose a few notes for the first day of the New Year.
The boys scattered last night – Joe going to John’s and Pete to Tony’s, while Paige went with K.M. to a New Year’s Eve celebration. Friends dropped by for a brief visit and invited us to visit them this summer at their home in Nehalem. A pleasant enough prospect providing it occurs before I’m busy writing. The summer will I hope, see me in a fury of creative joy comparable to that experienced when working on Volunteer. But until then, have a lot of research to do and I must get to Salt Lake for that.
I see my characters from a great distance, but they are alive and moving. Now I must maintain my place until I have the necessary background to move into a close-up.
Watched It’s A Wonderful Life on TV last night. I won’t spend time outlining the story, but it did send me to bed full of thoughts. The story made me wonder how the lives of those around me, family and friends, might have been if I hadn’t been born. Or if they hadn’t. This exercise brought the realization that perhaps our individual and unexceptional lives are important, and even positive. And, oddly enough, that our less desirable deeds can sometimes, in the fabric of life, be put to positive advantage—though one should obviously try to the best one can. But it might be a psychological exercise that those who suffer from depression should try. Most of them, I think, would feel much better afterward.
“Feeling seems to be the root out of which thought comes.” Van Dusen/Persona to Person – The Problem of Being Human by Rogers and Stevens.
January 3, 1975
What a rain storm tonight! Thunder and lightning and occasional wind gusts tossing hard driven rain and hail against all things outside our cozy house. I’m taking the kids skiing at Summit, providing the roads are open. Paige went with K. today and did very well so we’re all going to try it except for Pete. I’ll begin work at Hook on Monday, 10 to 4, four days a week (sob). But it will save money, and so ease the pain.

Published in: on November 11, 2018 at 10:06 am  Comments (4)  

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4 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. If I had not been conceived my parents would not have married and my siblings would not have been!

  2. Yes! The implications for our presence or non-presence in the world is far reaching! I try to remember that life brings both responsibilities and opportunities. Thank you for your thoughts, Rose.

  3. I could reflect on those ideas of existence for hours! It definitely makes you aware of how you might have affected others lives. Great thought on how it could help those with depression.

  4. Thank you for your thoughts on such subjects. It means a lot to me to hear from you!

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