Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Life in the Big City

Ten months to the date from when the Bohemian and I got married in the taro patch on the Garden Isle, I’m dreaming of a second wedding. As in, I’m having a dream in which we are in New York city readying ourselves for another wedding ceremony.

In the dream, it’s understood that the Bohemian and I are already married. For some reason, we’re doing an encore, as friends gather, dresses are donned, and the excitement builds with the approaching big day.

The build-up is a familiar feeling, as I still recall the eight months of to-do lists I amassed during the process of planning our real wedding celebration. I was involved in every detail, from the table cloths to the candle count. The Bohemian and I even grew the kale that was served at our buffet.

But in this dreamy New York city wedding, our big day had come and I realized I knew nearly nothing of the event. As I readied myself for the ceremony, it dawned on me that I had no idea where we were getting married.

When I asked someone (some unfamiliar character that seemed to be in charge, quite possibly the officiant) he told me that we were to be wed at St. Michael’s church. Now, in my entire life, I’ve spent all of five hours in NYC. And though I have no knowledge of such a place, I’m sure there is at least one St. Michael’s church in that city. In the dream I am surprised. The Bohemian and I are not religious. We don’t even go to church. As time moves closer to the ceremony, I’m wondering, “Why aren’t we getting married in Central Park?”

2013-08-30_wedding dress

I wake with the odd feeling of being on the precipice of one of the most important events of my life, but completely ignorant of its detail. Disconnected. Out of control. And the fear that by leaving it in the hands of others, it won’t feel like my own.

I’ll admit, I’m a bit of a control-freak, though I’d like to think I’m a fairly effective one. Except when it comes to controlling my control-freakishness. It’s such a habit. And one with a good defense for sticking around. It gets stuff done, gosh darn it.

As a woman who was single for the first seven years of my son’s life, some do-it-yourself patterns have been engrained. But my son is nearly ten now, adventuring to stretch his wings. And I’m married, with a helpful partner, who is often there in quiet support if I’d just settle down enough to let myself be bolstered.

Life’s just one big event that will allow you all your planning. But it gives the final check-off, or, perhaps, just wads your list up altogether.

I don’t want to get married at St. Michael’s church in New York City in a dress I didn’t choose. But I also don’t want to try to box my life into the confines of my limited list of to-do’s. I want room for the unexpected, pleasant-kind of surprises. That’s where the magic lives.

In my waking world, I’m finding myself somewhere in between holding on and letting go. Sometimes it’s flowing like an inspired melody. Other times, I’m tripping all over myself.

I guess it’s all playing out in my dreams. My fears of letting others take the lead, only to find myself going down the wrong path. But I guess that’s the risk of love in the concrete jungle. Just a part of life in the big city.

Addendum
Simply curious, an online search brings me to the website of one St. Michael’s church in Manhattan. Apparently, a rather historic one known for its Tiffany glass and pipe organs. It’s been standing since 1807 and seems quite welcoming.

This Episcopal church has a website, which kindly states, “We are a community of great diversity seeking to offer God’s radical hospitality to all who enter our doors. Wherever you come from, whatever your age, whomever you love, however you believe, you are always welcome here.”

Radical, yes.  It welcomed me in my dreams!

photo courtesy of Wikipedia
photo courtesy of Wikipedia
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 10 Comments

Sketching it Out

In 25 days we move, and for a while there, we didn’t know where to. I’d said I’d keep you posted in this endeavor, but frankly, rental choices have been so few that when one possibility surfaced, I was too afraid to discuss it for fear of hexing the process.

Our family was clear on our home vision. We wanted something simple, in the country (preferably on our very same road), a place to garden, (an outdoor shower would be nice) and affordable. Jeb wished for a treehouse. And we all wondered about this new place offering the future possibility of a canine companion.

Our approach was dream big but be grateful for what came our way. The local Craigslist’s rental page had become a forum for frustrated renters seeking homes and landlords defending their reasons for the trend of doubling rental rates. Even if we were willing to settle for the few condominiums featured – not in our town but the closest to our area of the island – we couldn’t rationalize spending nearly $3000 a month in a boxed-in community where gardens and clothes lines were against the rules.

Magic isn’t rational either, but under the circumstances we figured we’d try it. One Sunday we went to the bay at the end of our street. My mind was heavy with homebound thoughts. I couldn’t sit, I felt like walking. So I left the Bohemian and Jeb at the beach and walked the three miles along our country road, back home. I passed many houses nestled in the trees. Walked by stretches of open fields and segments of river lined with ginger flowers. With every home I passed, I wondered about our own future abode. With every step and every breath, I quietly wished to the distant hills that we, too, could still call this area our home.

I was back at our place around sunset, in time to meet up with the Bohemian and Jeb returning from the beach. They’d done lots of things, but one of them was a quick sketch in a small notebook. An inspired illustration of the house that we were envisioning.

2013-06-01_Home Sketch

Note the ocean view (and swimming sea life), a treehouse, a simple home, fruiting trees, and of course, Fido.

It had to have been a few weeks after my country road walk and that sketchbook exercise that I got a whisper to contact a neighbor to let him know we were looking for a place. Since I didn’t have his phone number, I emailed another friend (who happens to live next door – we’ll call him the Musician) to see if he could give me his contact information. The Musician was well-aware that we were looking and had wished us all the best in our search. On this day, as I sent the email to him, asking for his neighbor’s phone number, I felt compelled to mention that we were still searching for our home, and though it may not be ideal, we’d be willing to temporarily sub-let a place if the opportunity arose.

As the story goes, my email request was sitting in the Musician’s Inbox, not yet read. He was out looking at the solar eclipse with a mutual friend. They were talking about the Musician’s impending travels and his uncertainty about who would stay at his house and look after his dog. Our family was mentioned. A light went ding within the mind of the Musician as the sun was circled in a ‘ring of fire.’ He decided to call me right away and went to his computer to get my phone number, at which point, he saw my email mentioning the sub-let.

The Musician needs someone to stay at his home for four months, beginning July 1st. We need a place to live beginning that day. We’ve worked out the details and the rest has been finalized as of this week.

Did I mention that he lives on our little country road, just a few driveways up? There is a treehouse. A garden. Fruiting trees. An outdoor shower. And a little, easy-going dog we’ve known for years, who will now be in our care.

Maybe it all starts by sketching it out.

We’ll see how the details fill in. For now, we are just so very grateful.

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Home and the Heart in Ruby Slippers

If home is where the heart is, then perhaps it matters not the locale in which you dwell. The theory being that a happy heart is not contingent on square footage.

Of course, I would agree. But I’d also suggest that a solid, comfy home space does nurture a sense of security that can offer some sigh of relief. One that eases and opens the heart a little more. Even the nomads among us can appreciate the reprieve a warm shower and soft bed can bring in the midst of their travels. We all need a place to land.

heart_house

I consider the importance of home, as our family is currently searching for one. We were told last week that the house we now rent is going up for sale. We have two months to find a new place.

Our family knew that one day we would outgrow this sweet abode. It was a perfect space for Jeb and I when I found it nearly two years ago. It’s worked well with the addition of the Bohemian too. He’s turned dilapidated garden beds into a thriving salad bar of a garden. We’ve made beautiful memories here.

Seems with the wedding now over and a new season in the air, it’s time for our family to put roots down in a fresh place.

Upon first hearing the news that we needed to move, I felt a zing of excitement, realizing that infinite possibilities awaited in the unknown realm of our new house. When I told the Bohemian, he responded exactly the same. Even Jeb was enthusiastic (instantly asking if this meant that he could finally(!) get a dog).

You see, we’ve been asking for this in our own quiet way. The Bohemian has again pulled out his sketchbook and revisits old drawings he has of our ‘dream home.’ Illustrations started months ago when we were entertaining the idea of our next place. He adds more trees, and puts skylights in the rooftop of the pencil-drawn cottage on the page. He even makes a gate carved with our initials.

You know, you can search the web for “how to manifest a house” and actually get sites dedicated to this very topic (although a good portion would like you to pay them in order to impart their ‘secret’ to success). But peruse the basics of any of these and you’ll see common threads.

  • Imagine how it feels to be in your house. Experience this as if it’s true and real right now.
  • Be specific about the details of what you want. Don’t hold back on making your wishes, no matter how ‘big’ they seem.
  • Spend time every day focusing on what you want to manifest.
  • Let it all go and move about your day. Live your life, but stay present. You never know what may present itself that can lead you towards your dream home.

These steps can be employed to create anything in our lives, not just a home. The idea being that everything starts with our imagination. That our minds, our thoughts, are creating our world, our reality.

So on one hand, we are excited to try these techniques and see what kind of home comes into our lives. We are seeking something functional, beautiful and simple. We want a place in the country with a big space to garden and grow our food. And yes, the potential for a dog when the time is right.

Who knows, perhaps by announcing this on the Archives, I’m infusing our vision through the power of words on a screen, read by a few more pairs of eyes.

I can keep the Archives posted on this little experiment. What does it look like to have a dream and go through the process of making it real?

Well, this morning, I’ll be very honest. I woke feeling scared. Like maybe we’d never find our place. That on this island of vacation rentals, there will only be the minimal five listings on Craigslist for anything long-term. Only studio apartments cramped in town, overpriced and scant on substance.

When these fears arise, I need to work with them. I’m immediately drawn to empathy for the many souls that have no shelter at all. No home. What of them? How does this new-agey approach of how we create our reality apply to those that live on the streets and long for a place to call their own?

These are questions I cannot answer. Though, I’ve lived out of my car on more than one occasion, I have a very small inkling of what it’s like to be transient. And it gives me more appreciation than ever to have a home base.

The truth is, I’ve played with these manifestation concepts for most of my adult life and experienced some pretty magical moments.

I wanted to live on a sheep farm and learn how to spin wool. Well, somehow I found that shepard’s room in Vermont taking care of a hundred sheep.

I wanted to be a mother, despite multiple ovarian surgeries with only one ovary remaining. But my dream came true and Jeb was born.

And I felt the presence of a soul-mate in my heart, though I was single for seven years on a remote island, raising that little boy of mine alone. Then one day, walking on the beach, I passed a man standing on the sand. He is now my husband. Truly, my soul mate.

Many times my heart has held a dream. And I am fortunate to say that some of those biggest dreams have come true. I am grateful. And I need to remember this.

It may start with our minds, but it rests in our hearts. We might as well click our heels and feel it.Madame Tussauds's "The Wizard Of Oz" Cinema 4-D Experience Launch

Home is where the heart is, and I’ve got to keep the faith.  There’s a perfect place that is our home.