The garage door, thank goodness, is fixed. It turned out to be an electrical problem, and involved two electricians, a pulley, a ladder and a trap door in the ceiling of the garage.
Shabbat was deeply restful, and also beautiful. I walked by Viele Lake, enjoyed other people's dogs, the geese and growing goslings, the swallows and the bats.
I did not turn on the news, open the computer, or check email until way after sunset.
What a relief.
I seem to have re-entered a territory that I visit periodically, in which I wonder what of worth, if anything, I have accomplished in my life. Only now, as a few things in my body are changing (vision in my left eye, small skin cancer right on the bridge of my nose, etc.,) I wonder if I will be granted the time to make repairs, to finish unfinished projects, to do anything that will be of any real help in this increasingly and unpredictably troubled world.
I know that Zalman, z'l, thought of "Eldering" as a time of taking stock, wrapping things up, giving over wisdom.
It occurs to me that this is fitting for an extravert who had already accomplished a great deal in his life, and needed to turn inward.
That may not be the case for me, although I am now the age he was when he really plunged into the "Spritual Eldering" work.
Instead, during what might have been my most professionally creative years, I put aside a good deal of what I had considered "my own work" in order to be able to manage a robust household with a constant flow of students and guests, and a beloved whose physical limitations and needs grew increasingly complex. I did this willingly, and with a whole heart. I cobbled together a few short projects of my own (a concert here and there, etc.) but essentially shifted my attention, focus, creativity and energy to the household and its inhabitants.
And to keeping my beloved as alive and well as long as possible.
Surely I knew that someday even my most concerted efforts could not keep him here.
We have just passed the fourth anniversary of Zalman's "hilula".
I am still waiting for a "sign" or a dream.
There are still people whom I love on this earth.
And---I still feel somehow unmoored.
I am still struggling to re-enter my own solitary life robustly.