You see, I feel a bit left out. It seems as if everyone I know is already in his or her right place.
* That right place is a chunk of farmable land for my friend Rachel and her husband, Matt. They also have all the skills they need, everything from baking bread and growing crops in a sustainable way to building a cabin and making baskets out of tree bark. They've been at this sort of thing for a long time, having spent five years or so learning everything they could on a permaculture farm in Bolinas.
* Daphne has her daughter, son, and granddaughter within a 15-mile radius.
* Tom is living with the love of his life, and they have friends in Arkansas who keep telling them about three-bedroom houses for $40K, complete with an acre of land.
* Chris's youngest son just started living with him, and Chris has a secure job.
* Tim lives with his wife and three kids. They have a large house as well as a cabin in the mountains.
* Helene in Nova Scotia lives in a sweet, little town with a healthy sense of community, surrounded by organic farmers and lots of water.
* Araia has lived for many years in northern Washington state on a beautiful chunk of land next to a river.
* Diana's family is all nearby. My nextdoor neighbors, Janet and Dana, have a lovely craftsman-style house, a dog that could protect them, and a thriving community through their Buddhist temple.
* Sharon is happily married with a young daughter in Santa Cruz.
* Ken's land and house in Tucson is almost paid off, and he has the skills to do just about anything.
* Rick's daughter and grandson are living with him, and, like Ken, he can do anything that needs fixing or building.
* Jose has his house, his family and extended family, a secure job, and money.
* Bev believes that the transition may cause untold suffering and death to millions or even billions but that she will still live to be 100.
* Heather's living in Denver in a cooperative community with her boyfriend.
Everyone seems to be set in their own way for what is to come, whether they realize it or not. I, however, am not. Ideally, I would like an acre in a moderate climate with water and a man who loves me and is loved by me and who is strong and skilled enough to fix things, build things, and know how to do things. Health, too, would be fantastic. It would also be great if my son were living somewhere nearby, but he will soon be on the other side of the country, attending grad school at Penn State.
Most people are in the state of not knowing what's coming their way or, if they have gotten a whiff of what's coming, they've escaped into denial. Then there are a few people who have resources, friends and family who are with them, and the means to carry out their plans. They're the ones who have been creating a sustainable life off the land for years or who have relocated to Nicaragua or Venezuela or some other place as far as possible from American influence. But I'm in neither of those boats. I'm in the unfortunate place of knowing a freight train is barrelling down the tracks right at me and being unable to move off the tracks.
Though my kidney function is fantastic--creatinine 0.7 at the last reading, with normal being 0.6-1.1--my heart is giving me trouble. My chest is always tight. Exercise frequently produces pain and constriction. Going uphill is exceedingly difficult. I just had an echocardiogram. My EF rate, which tells how well my heart is pumping, has declined from 50, the bottom end of normal, last June to 35. Basically, even if I had an acre of land, I wouldn't be up to growing anything on it.
So this is why I've been stressed--I'm not in right place (cities are rarely the right place, but certainly not during a time of crisis), I'm without a partner, my son is leaving the area, friends are forever busy with their own concerns, and my heart is taking a dive.
So my m.o. is what it has been since I moved to Southern California in 1981. You see, ever since moving here I have been keen on leaving and have gone on road/camping trips to explore and look for right place. So, as has been the case all these years, I am open to right place and right situations. In the meantime, I am here, in Southern California, for good or for not so good.
I'm taking a Red Cross first aid class that recommends having two to three weeks of food and water in your abode. Since the debaucle of Hurricane Katrina, the Red Cross has upped this from three days to three weeks. See, even the Red Cross does not have much faith in the U.S. government. So if the Red Cross is saying three weeks, perhaps it's better to have three months' supplies. Whew! Well, it's something to aim for.
