Something funny has started happening to me since I’ve begun writing full time. I live completely in my head, extending my week into one long metaphor, my perception jagging in every which direction as I shift the angles for a better view on the page, something more interior, something deepened. I don’t notice where i am in space, that’s too unimportant.
When I returned home from walking the dog last night, the dusk had turned to dark.
BUT THE THINGS THAT REALLY HELPED ME THROUGH THE GRIEF WEREN’T THINGS. THEY WERE PEOPLE.
This got me thinking about the strange juxapositions that we find ourselves in throughout the course of our lives, and perhaps even beyond them. How does this happen: in one moment, I’m a king, and in the next, I’m a parking lot.
Folding tiny kid clothes? Meditation. Emptying the dishwasher for the fiftieth time this month, putting the groceries away or humming a song on a radio that you don’t even remember turning on? Meditation. Petting a purring cat and having a glorious, momentary lapse? Meditation. I bet Trungpa had big cats.
Oh glorious summer! You’re slipping away so quickly. Thanks for the great times, Summer, for keeping the sun worshiping, south shore ocean dipping, lobster cracking, oyster shucking soul in me forever blessed by your sandy toes and your smoky barbeques.
Ghosts. They really catches up with us up by times. Our ghosts, they haunt us, they involve us, and they embrace us. Usually we go to them.
When Mitchell came home in march with a job offer in hand and asked me if Leila and I wanted to go to china for six weeks, I stood in the kitchen and yelled, “Yes, yes!, yes!”
A lot of people say to me, hey, mo, i love your blog. (I may get embarrassed and try to redirect the conversation). Especially when they usually follow it up with, Actually…it’s the only one i read. (I still have friends who haven’t entered the ‘mobile phone’ realm). I smile, unsure how to proceed. Sometimes they might stop for a moment, puzzled, and say How did you even manage to start a blog?