Seasonal Distraction Theory: How I Moved to Lancaster (and Stayed)

I moved here in the winter.  Arrived at my destination on December 11, to be exact.  Right in the midst of the shortest, darkest time of the year.  Right before the big holiday season.  Right before what is the coldest month of the year pretty much everywhere in the northern hemisphere (January).

Right after an exceptionally beautiful November in Phoenix (well, to me, every November was gorgeous, but that beauty still remained a treat even after 6 years).  Right after spending my favorite holiday with just one special person and not having to juggle any family OR travel logisticals.  Right after driving through what I later learned was one of the worst storms to hit New Mexico in a long time. (I even wrote a story about it - my one and likely only attempt at fiction; I discovered that I don't care for developing characters.  I'd rather write about cycling and cactus and muffins...you know, things with soul.)  And right after spending six years in a (warm and sunny) place I fell more in love with every day.

So, really, all went exactly as planned.  You see, I had strategized and logisticized before this move, as I have before all my moves.  I theorized that it was a great idea to leave Phoenix in the winter:  the weather was at its best; my friends were at their happiest, the Heat Induced Bad Mood having given way to more sunny dispositions; I was finally able to sleep again (I slept very poorly during Phoenix summers).  Everything was great and I felt good about everything.  It's bad form for me to leave a place disliking it.  If you get to that point, you've stayed too long.  Best to leave when you can have a teary and lingering if bittersweet goodbye.  Best not to storm out and slam the door behind you, in a manner of speaking.

I had further theorized that it would be utterly fantastic to arrive in my new homeland during the darkest and coldest time of the year, right before the stressful holiday season...a holiday season that would be entirely different from any experienced heretofore, as I'd be located closer to family than ever before in my adult life.  And...AND...I'd be immediately, right away sharing my daily life with someone who also had family in the area.  After never having lived together or even in the same state as EACH OTHER, never mind ALL THE PEOPLE WE'RE RELATED TO.  Oh the logisticals.  Not to mention the adjustments...more like jarring shockwaves at first.  The actual adjusting didn't start to happen until later.

Are you cringing yet?

My reasoning was that arriving during this dark and dreary time would be such a shock to my system that I'd have no choice but to face it full on.  There is no hiding from a complete and total change of scenery, rhythm, people, temperature, space, and time...to name just a few things.  You sink or you swim.  You cannot float and wait for the tide.  Ain't no tide coming to tow you in to shore.  It's all you.

The other, more secret part of my theory was that all the holiday goings on and stress (stress not as a negative thing, but as a fact during a time that means different things to different people) would be a good distraction from what I had just done:  completely and totally uprooted myself from a place I loved, people I adored, and a life that for the first time ever, I truly felt was my own creation, a creation I was proud of, and a creation that embodied all of who I am.  Granted, I needed to uproot myself.  It had been in the plans for a little over a year, just not quite in the manifestation in which it ended up happening.  But who plans to meet the partner of their dreams?  Who figures that scenario into their plans?  Not I, that's for sure.  Not after years and years of ... well, let's just say "mediocrity" with regards to my love life.  So, in my eyes, I had a valid and awesome reason for a slight change of plans.  But I didn't proceed with any less calculation than originally planned.  The calculations just had lots more variables.

The distraction theory held that with all the holiday goings on, I could smoothly move past without too much contemplation on what I had just done.  I could gloss over it and have as fresh a start as possible after all the hoopla.  It wasn't that I didn't want to acknowledge it.  It's just that it was too much for my brain and heart to wrap around all at once, and I knew that.  This theorizing may seem cockeyed or slightly disturbing, but ...well,  it was designed to get me through those first couple months, albeit in a sort of blind haze of busy-ness and family and newness blended with traditional holiday themes.  Once I had been here a couple months, it would be harder to just chuck it all and undo what I had done.  I'd have a bit of a foothold even if accidentally, even in spite of myself and the life that I left.  I'd trick myself into staying awhile, because I knew it would be worth it if I could just make it through the first part.

Did it work?

Well, I am writing this blog from my (my!) living room in our (our!) house in Lancaster, PA.

Not a day goes by that I don't miss my Arizona family and the friendly saguaros that lined my life's path there...they are here with me, in my heart, all the time.

And I appreciate them all the more for accompanying me here and making my life here richer.

So I guess you can take the girl out of the desert.  You just have to do it in the dead of winter.

~AC

These Boots are Made for Walkin...or Driving Cross Country, Actually

I am not Amish nor am I a cowgirl.  I live among the Amish and I got here by way of the land of cowboys and Indians.  This blog was borne of that transitional experience and will likely be filled with my observations on it as I live day to day in this new and sometimes foreign place.  

I moved here from Arizona, "little spring place" in Pima, the land of the saguaro cactus, the brown desert, famous heat, the Grand Canyon, the Mormons, ASU, the Lost Dutchman's Mine, the American Snowbird.

I moved from there to Pennsylvania, Penn's woods, the land of seasons, trees, Penn State, the Liberty Bell, farms, Amish, Mennonites, and I don’t know what else yet.  I’m still learning.

In Arizona, the Mormon missionaries ride around on their bicycles, wearing their starched white shirts and pressed black or navy pants with bibles in their pockets, proclaiming the word of a man who allegedly dug up some really heavy tomes a long time ago and had a very common name.  You can pick them out from a mile away (the missionaries, not the tomes).  Once you know what they are, that is.  Took me a while before I could spot them.  I just thought there were a lot of young men who dressed really nicely in the heat of summer to go out and run errands on their bicycles.  I was impressed by their fortitude and perseverance.  Here were people with specific dress, specific traditions, specific processes that they would absolutely not change...somewhat integrated into society at large, yet striving to keep a certain level of separation at the same time.

When I moved to Lancaster, I moved into another land of People of Specific Belief Systems That They Wear on Their Sleeves.  Literally.  The Amish women wear home-made simple dresses that are composed of a couple or a few layers of smocks tied in a very complicated fashion.  The tying seems to be especially complicated on the younger girls, as it would appear that extra fabric is left for them to grow into over time.  This makes sense - if there is fabric to let out, you don't have to make the clothing over and over again.  It's efficient.  The grown men have bowl cuts and beards, no mustaches, and wear pants, shirts, and often suspenders.  Men and women work at hard labor on farms and provide all that the family and extended family needs to get by - no small job.  They get around in horse drawn buggies, complete with flashing lights and turn signals.  Sometimes, interestingly enough, they ride in cars but never drive them.  They are permitted to use technology when it does not negatively impact their quality of life, as I understand it.   So while they may not drive cars, they have deemed it okay to utilize them in certain cases.  The Amish ways are specifically strict, and certainly different from what most of us would consider "normal." It works for them and they remain insulated if not isolated from the rest of the world.  I am fascinated by them, and humbled by all the work they do without even thinking of it as work.  It's just life.

How peculiar to draw comparisons.  But I did.  And I do.  Both groups fascinate me to such an extent that I stare rudely, trying to figure out the family structure of a certain group, or the age of a young woman with 5 young (perfectly behaved!) kids in tow.  Theirs are foreign belief systems to me in many ways.  

I came from the land of Pedaling (Peddling?) Prophecy to the land of Bearded Buggy Drivers and Bonnets.  And that is to put it simply.  Too simply.

The clash and mix of experiences and cultures has made my head swim and my mind whirl.

But I continue to bake, and ride my bike.  I've learned about gardening and running a household that's not just me.  I wear my cowboy boots whenever possible.  In this cooler clime, I get to do that a lot more than in my previous life.  It's a little bit Amish, and a little bit hippy, really, as some dear friends pointed out some months ago.  And none of it would be happening without the awakening I had during my time in the southwest.

So you see, I didn't really select this name.  It came out and made itself known.  So I will write on, and do my best to live up to it.  These are big, pointy boots to fill.

~AC