I think it’s so funny how people freak out about weather forecasts for me up here in Northern Minnesota.  My family down south calls to warn me.  I live up north.  I expect winters to be cold.  I expect snow.  This is normal.  Even my friends up here seem to panic when snow or winds are coming.  It’s ok!  I have plenty of food in my kitchen.  I have a snowmobile and a sauna.  My house is cozy.  I go out when I have to.  Sometimes my car gets stuck.  I chose to move here a long time ago.  I still choose it.

I’m my own valentine this year. That’s nothing new.

I’m learning to take care of myself, which is important. I’ve come through a difficult year.

I find myself in a new town, in a new house, and though I’ve only moved 2 1/2 hours away, a new life.

I’ll be starting a new job soon. I’ve been accepted into college again. I’m eating better, relaxing more, and using my sauna a lot. Every day for the first month, and now about every other day.

I have a to-do list, but it’s things I want to do. My errands revolve around fixing the house up and feeding myself.

I thought I knew what I wanted to do. I thought I was settled and content over the last decade. Random things happened to uproot me and chase me out. It’s not a failure to leave after saying I’d stay. Forces greater than ourselves insist we make a change. It’s a risk.

Thirty three years ago, I got married. We said it was forever, but it wasn’t. No regrets. We are both in better places that we couldn’t have predicted.

The road to get here has been difficult. All of us suffer on the road of life. Today is a day that I can say it was worth it. That washed out road with all its perils has been so much more than the way to this destination. The road has been the life.

Earlier this week, I listened to a podcast about one hit wonders.  The show was really about creativity.

I’ve never had a global hit, but on a small scale, I’ve had multiple creative successes in my life.  Back in 2000, I came up with Flash Meridian, which was featured on TV, in magazines and newspapers here in Minnesota.  I’ve kept going with that story ever since.

At some point I began painting fish in the branches of trees, and people responded to that.  Success was measured in paintings sold.

The podcast pointed out that many artists (musical, visual or otherwise) don’t have a follow-up success because they fear not living up to the initial success.  Those who are successful after a hit, often stick with the same style or theme, and are not able to venture out into new styles.  They stick with what worked for them before.

My successes in life are measured by my own arm’s length.  I do what I do and sometimes put it out into the world.  I am free to create whatever I want to, and the only expectations that have limited me have been my own.

I am blinking in the light of a new city.  No one knows me here… yet.  My happiness in life does not depend on notoriety in a new town, but it will be interesting to see how my vision can translate.  I have nothing to prove.

This morning it is -6 degrees outside, but I’m cozy in my hyggekrog.  As much as I love interacting with people, I am enjoying the solitude of my cozy, quiet house.  I know this winter will go by fast, because I am transitioning to a new town, and developing a new daily routine.  One of the biggest changes for me has been enjoying my sauna!  My neighborhood is Finntown, though most people refer to it as “downtown”.  While house shopping, I noticed that many of the homes had saunas, and that became a priority for me.  Another selling point of this house was NO BASEMENT!  Reading through the abstract for the house, I see that Finns have lived here before me, and that makes me happy.  Most of the fixtures in the house are original, so I know that Elsie and her husband Viljo Laakso stood at the same sink, ate in the same kitchen, walked up and down the same stairs as I do now.  The plumbing in the sauna looks old and beautiful.  Today is my 31st day in this house, and I have had 29 saunas in that time.  Almost all of my boxes are unpacked.  I’ve moved furniture around a bit to find how it will best work for me here.  Bringing my furniture and art into this house made it immediately feel like home.  The cats feel it, too.  Within a day or two, they were settled in.  They love the view from my bedroom window.  Today is a perfect day to bask in the sunshine flooding in, enjoy my coffee and some good food, light a candle given to me by a friend, and think about how happy I am to be here.

Today I went back to the town I used to live in.  I spent more than half of my life there. As I drove past my old house today, I glanced at it.  That was all.  Just a glance.  I was no longer connected.  I didn’t feel a thing.  I didn’t care.  I just wanted to come home to Virginia.  I remembered my way around, and I saw people I used to know.  I had lunch with Lisa.  That was nice.  I forgot to take a picture.

I had gone back for my annual physical.  My doctor suggested I eat a Mediterranean diet.  He told me to eat a lot of olive oil.

I took a sauna when I got home.  Half way through, I went outside and rolled in the snow.  It was shocking.  Painful.  Exhilarating.  I’ll try that again. 

Afterwards, I made dinner.  A salmon steak rubbed with garlic.  Tomato, parsley, onion, fresh mozzarella, garlic stuffed olives.  Balsamic vinegar, olive oil, an Italian roll.  It made me wonder why I didn’t make something like that sooner. It was a good day.  I tried new things.  I think I learned a lot.

The earth existed for a long time before humans arrived, and it will continue long after we are gone. Earth doesn’t need us. It doesn’t need us to observe it, to interpret it, and it certainly doesn’t need us to modify it.  I think the planet will sigh in relief when we are gone. Having said that, we didn’t come into to universe. We came out of it, like a wave rises out of the ocean.  We are part of it.  We are one stitch, one loop of thread in the fabric of the cosmos.

It kind of takes the pressure off to realize that we’re not necessary. We will leave our scars on the planet, but the jungles will grow up to obliterate our developments.  Maybe the ice caps will form again. Maybe this will become an ocean planet whose former continents are submerged. Maybe something huge will collide with this place,  vaporizing it and starting over again.  We tend to think of that as destruction, but it’s actually more like creation!  It’s not sad if there’s no one to feel the sadness. It’s just the way things unfold in a dynamic universe.

We can’t destroy it. We can only destroy ourselves.