Mooreover / Blog

As a child I learned that one of the hardest things to accomplish in writing is to portray positive feelings. Feelings of pain, betrayal, grief, and regret are actually fairly easy for most of us to articulate - and speaks on some level to the content and basis of American Literature specifically.

I say this because right now I’m wonderfully content. Merely describing my current setting (mostly horizontal in our Lane Recliner, watching the NFL playoffs, laptop saddled over my legs) is merely a physical description of a scene that some might find relaxing. Much harder to describe is my emotional state of contentment.

It started on the 17th of December, on a slow train ride to Montana. I had worked with fervor every December day prior to that train ride, trying to shore up business to sustain two weeks of inactivity (I don’t think “vacation” is an appropriate word when you’re self-employed. I’m not getting paid, and every day I’m not working is a day I’m not earning. An awareness of this can create a sense of anxiety that those who are on “vacation” don’t suffer from). This fervor had me in a constant state of readiness, which sustained over two or three weeks in row only creates a state of exhaustion. The train ride forced me to decompress - the lack of cell service forced me to shut up - the lack of internet connectivity forced me to reflect (rather than project). As I stated in my post at that time, the train ride was a perfect transition from the hectic life we were escaping to the deep sigh that we call Montana.

The next two weeks actually felt like a vacation. Trips to the ranch don’t often feel that way - not necessarily because of the work that needs to be done, but merely because I don’t escape the atmosphere of work. I would hardly call being a realtor hard labor, and while I enjoy physical work, I’ve found that I mentally need to release myself from an expectation of work to fully relax. Thanks to a warm snap in Eastern Montana (and to the good graces of my parents), there really wasn’t a lot of pressing work to be done, which allowed me a couple of good days to chill. After reading two books (in as many days), I was ready to go, and my brother-in-law and I spent the next few mornings cutting and stacking firewood.

I returned to Washington in time for my birthday, which we celebrated with friends last night. Together our bible study group ate chips and dip, watched the Seahawks win (what a game!), and played an extremely long game of Texas Hold ‘Em. Everything about it contributed to my state of emotional contentment: hosting friends, watching our team win, playing music, trying to keep Alex and Tom on task (I now know how Sisyphus feels), and sharing a bottle of wine with an old friend (thanks Luck).

I’m alone now, as I said, almost fully reclined, watching the Jets and Patriots on tv. And after writing all of this, I’ve realized that contentment is probably most easily defined as an absence of worry.

And perhaps it’s that realization that leaves me relaxed.