I am in Boston, and trying slow down long enough to shift into a new gear. In Phase One of my adventure-sabbatical, I'm releasing -- home and homeland and purposeful career, identification as a brokenhearted girl -- and I've made time, little time at least, to clear the playing field. Call it gestating, or the quiet before the storm, I'm on purpose not-doing, and trying to meet whatever floats into the moment. It is surprisingly uncomfortable, with lots of grappling between claustro- and agorophobia-esque urges; but with a deep developing kernal of freedom. And washed over with relief.
I'm in Boston til the end of August, which feels like spending all of summer with my Brother, since the weather has just gone golden. Heat, heat and huge thunderstorms -- they say it's the tail of hurricane Bill wagging its way up the east coast. Weekdays, Brother works and I read, get lost in the city, and master the public transportation system. the greater Boston metroplex is a great place for Phase One; a real puzzle city that defies all attempts of imposed order, with lovely little pockets of greenery, ocean views and architecture. Weekdays I wade through tiny unmarked colonial-city streets and find museums, bookstores, 99-cent Chinese-novelty stores and parks where I can read in the sunshine.
Weekends we play and talk. Brother and I are good talkers, and the conversation is excellent. He is a Budding Big Kid, and we spend time making his apartment more homely with useful tools and function-minded feng shui. On my first round of Growing Up Edits, I share the patterns that work for me and tap into his newer edition of formalized human training (Little Brother is a Compassion Commando behavioral-psychology-social-worker, and has a lot of useful "why" information.)
This weekend is not such a good example, because I'm going up to NH for the women's herbal conference and Brother is going to NY to visit friends, but most of our weekends are together, mobile and fun. We get out of Boston altogether and head up the coast for pastoral drives, treasure hunts for antiques and architecture, or we go down the coast for beaches that stick out into the Atlantic on long fingers of sand marsh and good seafood lunches. We visit and compare far-flung modern-art museums. We go to drive-in double-features and compare them like they were modern art. (P.S. for pop culture conspiracy theorists: Consider G-Force and GI Joe. Obviously named by the same school of cool-marketing, both about elite forces -- yes, one is a group of guinea pigs, just roll with it -- that are chosen (no free will here) for their roles, both entertain a surprising degree of disregard for the laws of physics and the limits of science for being set in the "it could be happening today" world, and both use the same summer smash hit "Boom Boom Pow" for their theme songs. What does this tell us about the future of the supersoldier genre? About the way we market militarization to our youth? About the merging identity of Man and Beast? Discuss.)
Since Brother went on retreat with me, we have a whole new shared vocabulary of perception to add into the conversation. And since he got a higher degree and found a job he loves since the last time we talked face to face, he is a whole new kind of awesome that I love getting to know, and insight that keeps me feeling well cared-for while I do all this less-than-concrete work. The weeks go and I will miss this daily connection, and my Brother has helped me find the lightness of foot and the solidness of heart that I needed from Phase One.
