Last night as I prepared for sleep the whole house was ON. Everyone was in bed drifting off but this modern little house continued to blink and whirr and carry on. The dishwasher. The clothes washer. The clothes dryer. Air conditioning. Fans. The ‘fridge buzzed on and off. The Ice machine in the refrigerator clonking about.
A ticking clock would never be heard.
The house would not just shut the hell up and settle down for the night. We had taken ourselves to bed and left the house to do the work.
I am so used to the night sounds of birds, and ducks and the occasional barking dog.
Convenience is thine enemy I said to myself as I spread the sheet out on literally the biggest most comfortable couch in the world. And convenience – like processed sugars becomes an addiction.
Why does everything have to have a ding or a buzz when a cycle has finished, I thought as I rolled about trying to sleep. I NEVER have trouble sleeping by the way. I can sleep anywhere – it is my gift.
This is St Cecilia. A priest brought her out from Rome as a present for my mother. Probably about sixty years ago. She has been treasured. There was much discussion about whether she was marble or alabaster but – alabaster I guess.
After countless shifts as I carted her around the world she finally succumbed and broke.
I feel like this today, too. Just broke.
In two parts. (Does her broken arm count as another part? Probably Broken into three parts then. St Cecilia and I are broken into three parts. When I come up out from the farm and face the real world it is hard not to feel overwhelmed. I am so sure of my path when I am writing then I see how hard it is for others to live with an eye to their environment and I have to rewrite half my work. I see more clearly the problems our people face in the cities and the suburbs. And no-one has time here. And they do not want to think of the repercussions of their purchases. ‘Wanting to’ is over half of any battle. They don’t want to see.
Even connecting with your farmers is hard here in the suburbs: If you are too late to the farmers market you miss out. If you are too early to the blue berry patch you miss out. So, if you have ten minutes you ‘run to the store’ and fill the house up with more packaging and food that is so far from their farms it is unsettling.
When I clearly look at the path I have set out for myself; designing workable environmentally sustainable lifestyles in the homes of our people and showing our blog readers how to grow and prepare your own food. Once I am literally out in the homes of our people I see the monster lift it is going to take to help our young families work towards a better future. Because everyone is working so hard at just surviving and everyone has problems and everyone is just SO TIRED. They are just trying to get through.
But through to what? The THROUGH part is where we live.
How not to feel broken when this is what is being sold in our stores as LUNCH.
How not to feel as broken as Saint Cecilia. I cannot lie down and weep. I cannot feel broken. I must pick up and continue to help the young ones see that there is joy in the old fashioned ways. The old ways can work in a modern house. A sandwich and an apple are a better lunch.
The most important feeling I must foster in myself is to do all I can do. That has to be enough. You and I must do all we can do and forgive what we can’t get done. I can’t tell other people what to do – unless they have signed up for one of my courses that is. I can only take control of what I can do.
That is enough moaning for me this week I think!
The ducks have gone from the farm
John said that all but one of the ducks have gone. He has not seen them since I left, he said. If the back gate was open I believe they may been chased through that gate and possibly found the creek. They will fly up like pheasants when they get a fright and if something had chased them into the wheat some would have come back out. So they must have gone to water. To lose them all at once means they left as a flock.
He said there is only one left and I bet that is the duck called Quacker. She only hangs out with the flock at bed time. (And I have to round her up when I lock them in at night). She follows me everywhere during the day quacking the whole time and has a strange angle to her neck from a mink attack a couple of years ago. I feel broken by this too. Her all alone. The duck on her nest is still sitting there I guess. I hope they are both there when I get back. I will put them together and they can live with the chickens.
The duck pond had still not been filled when I left. That was a big part of the problem – John did not want the ducks in his pond anymore.
I cannot do it all. My children would say grandchildren are more important than ducks and dogs. (In fact they do say that) And I agree. So I cannot be on the farm all the time. I have to trust the others. There are times when we must hope that everyone is doing their best.
Is everyone torn in different directions like this?
St Cecilia is sitting on the table beside me. Broken in half. Reminding me that yes – we are all torn like this. Especially immigrants. We must get over it. We cannot give up just because we feel legless.
I must straighten my back – make a plan – and get on with it.
No-one is going to thank me for sitting on my arse weeping about feeling broken.
Celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
79 responses to “Feeling Broken And Tired”
Everything looks better once you can get some rest. I’m glad the house finally went to sleep, too, so that you could.
Poor ducks. I miss them.
I have been exactly where you are, Cecilia. Once I was visiting a son and his 6 children in the midwest, after having been making speeches and lectures about sustainability all around Europe. At bedtime, each child and the parents would take a small plastic bottle of water to their bedrooms (which they never finished drinking) and turn on a TV in each bedroom (yes, that meant 7 televisions going late into the night). All food in the enormous kitchen was processed or ordered in; no one cooked anything. The kids thought I was crazy for suggesting we all just go out for a nice walk. I was so depressed about it all. However, some of my message and habits did sink in and, as the children have grown up, they are also becoming much more conscientious. As I always told my 100’s of students: ‘no one expects you to do everything but everyone can do something!’
PS, My confirmation name is Cecilia because she is the patron saint of music and I’m very sorry your Cecilia is broken but I think she and you can be put together again. Just keep on keeping on!
Oh my! Seven televisions!! That must have been a huge house. Yes! Everyone can do something and I am so grateful for your support. You are a pioneer in our field – I have huge respect.
Poor Saint Cecilia. We can probably repair her but she might need to be strapped to a board from now on. Her indignities continue.
Sometimes it’s like putting cats in a bag. Nobody wants to cooperate. Big hug. Fresh start tomorrow. It will all be okay. I hope you can recharge over a cup of tea and a bit of quiet. Glue that poor girl back together.
Yes! Luckily I have a quiet writing day. Writing always puts me back together. Thank you!
Oh my, yes, I feel very borken. (Borken – yes I typed it that way by pure accident but it fits) I’m Borken. Borken tired and borken depressed. Death has visited a very dear friend here and he took her lovely husband. It has been a month, but nothing seems right or useful now. If screaming to the moon and stars would help – I would, but alas a borken heart is a borken heart.
Broken, misspelled. For something to be borken, it must be broken beyond all repair……
Hugs to you.
Oh I am so sad to hear that death darkened your doors. So sad. Hearting breaking. I like borken – it fits. Your very dear friend is lucky to have you.
This is a big post. Big questions. And answers. Within it and TKG community.
In our innercity apartment I would put the dishwasher on at night, fall asleep pretending its noise was the woosh woosh of the ocean shore. The comforting hum of the washing machine and fridge still connects me to nuturing childhood memories.
I used to feel torn. But then I got better at remembering others make their choices and I make mine. Phones, travel, availability works both ways.
I have a few precious family keepsakes that I worried about getting broken then learned there is a Japanese art, Kintsugi the process of repairing ceramics traditionally with lacquer and gold, leaving a gold seam where the cracks. I even got brave enough to have my mother and grandmother’s precious wedding rings remodelled into a ring that suited me, and I wear it.
I used to feel torn about doing what I do each day and others not but we are all in different stages and spaces and places.
I simply appreciate the company of likeminded people, remind myself they are “my tribe” and we make a difference.
And that is what I love most, your honesty and generosity in sharing was a rally call that was answered.
When I lived in the country, friends visiting from town would complain how ‘noisy’ the night was because of animals and birds going about the business of living. I found it amazing, because of course the country is quieter than the town, with its traffic, sirens and busy hum underlying everything. Noise is what you’re not used to, I guess. I try not to have things running at night. The Husband can fall asleep in seconds wherever he is. I sleep very badly, wherever I am. I’m lucky if I get 6 hours in one go, mostly it’s much less.
We cannot force anyone to be responsible, to take responsibility for everything that is impacted by what they do. It’s hard to show people that their individual actions impact us all. I tell myself that change starts with me, with my actions and my example.
Is it important to you to be able to touch and feel St Cecilia? Otherwise, one option to preserve her with dignity might be to reassemble her very carefully and then set her into a block of clear resin so that she can never break again. Some things are worth preserving forever, and she is one, I feel. If you don’t like this idea, I’m sure there are talented people who would be able to repair her.
She is important. And not small! The size of a 10 week piglet! Quite heavy. I am not sure what to do with her. I like the idea of a repair that is obvious – imagine a gold scar. Mostly I am trying to think what it means. Her breaking now.
The ducks just know you are away and are taking their own sight-seeing vacation. I’m going to picture you getting them all in a row – leading them back up your laneway. They are definitely creatures of habit. And St Cecelia seems to be telling you to gather your own pieces as well. You work so hard. Time for building in some personal rest time I think. When time runs out we don’t wish we’d done that one more podcast… but you might wish to sit through another sunset. Xoxo
Sitting down and relaxing is to hard for me! I will listen to the Saints and do my best!
“I must straighten my back – make a plan – and get on with it.
No-one is going to thank me for sitting on my arse weeping about feeling broken.
I so love this about you Celi! It’s kind of like “This is what’s happening, let’s get with the program and start working on a solution!” 👍😍
Yes! Working on it already – but – sometimes – you know.
Yes indeed…, I do know…
take those pieces and put them back together onto a board and add a mosaic around them. That is what I did for a friends cherished cross from her daughter. She cried when I gave it back to her.
St. Cecilia is eloquent in her broken-ness, as are you. Cece, you do so much, don’t beat yourself up. Your message is getting through loud and clear. I often think of the things we talked about in class and I can’t tell you how many times recently I’ve urged people to make rags our of old clothing they were going to give to Goodwill (ie., clutter up the landfill). My body feels broken today after a ten-hour flight from London last night. Now remind me, what would a good carbon offset for that be? And I love Ramona’s idea for fixing St. Cecilia!
I do trees – but I am working on another idea/ that reminds me to send an email about that.
Hi Celi. I thought I couldn’t live without a dishwasher. I can. I thought I couldn’t live without an iron. I can. I thought I couldn’t live without the radio playing in the background all day. I can. I thought I couldn’t live without the daily
newspapers. I can. But I can’t live without my books, gentle relaxing classical music, sunshine and the birds song, or the cat that comes down to my part of the house and just lies quietly in the sun at my feet.
There are so many small things we can do that will make a difference. I have a small bench top oven so I no longer have to turn on the big oven. Food for one can all be cooked in the small one.
Take care Celi. You and St Cecilia need time to rest and get put back together again Hugs from afar.
We can live without so much / and with less to maintain it is even a more frugal way of life! I love your cat lying quietly. Oh sunshine! How is your autumn going?
Here in Wellington, autumn so far has been kind to us. I’ve had the heating on only once and that was because I had visitors that day. The same can’t be said for the rest of the island. The north has had so much rain. Are you coming home soon?
Yes! I have a Bach booked at Himitangi from June 29th for two weeks. Hoping to get some solid winter beach time.
Himita gi is a short distance from here. If you get a chance….
Oh that is wonderful. I probably won’t have a car though! But surely we can think of something!
But I have a car. So let’s see if we can make time for lunch or coffee or something.
Yes! Let’s do lunch! Lovely.
And now I’m finding I quite like dishwashing by hand. Provided of course that the water is really hot. Not so keen on drying dishes so usually I leave them to dry overnight. Well that’s what I used to do with the dishwasher anyway. It’s amazing just what you can get used to and come to enjoy.
I like washing in super hot water with gloves! And music!!
Me too!
Sure do appreciate your honesty and openness, Celi. There are days when life just plain stinks. And it’s good to know we’re not alone in that experience!
You are certainly not alone. I think so be of us hide it better than others/ plus it comes and goes if I let it.
Very true- and hiding it isn’t always healthy!