Morning coffee and a little bit of fear and the dog wandering through the yard like some kind of four legged zombie. The sun rises silently between the houses and the rusty wrench rests without sound on the four season table. This is the driveway. This is where everyday starts and it’s important to me because it’s familiar and it’s home…which is the first time I’ve referred to it as such since I got here. That’s a big one. Home.
For years I have felt homeless. Today I do not and there is likely significance in that and while I’d love to sit in it for a while and discover the deeper meaning, I have come to learn that the meaning is not what is important because the meaning attaches itself to a timeline that exists outside of just this present moment. Now is all I have and the things that exist around me are only what they are at the time that I experience them and then the moment passes and new things appear and then more moments pass and perhaps I find myself in the presence of the same things I once did. Everything is movement. Everything is transient. Everything is simply just everything and for now, I am home.
What a morning! The world seemingly on fire in nearly every way around me and here I am in this driveway feeling content. The fear and the influence of others and the paranoia and everything that lends itself to being awful is exactly that, awful. And it exists. It is all real and there is death and famine and poverty and a million plagues and disparity and anguish and yet here, in this one solitary moment there is peace because there is an awareness within me that acknowledges everything as it is inside of me and out.
It might not translate into a concept that can easily be digested, and I am not writing these things so that can happen. Rather, I am writing these things because these thoughts and ideas exist inside my mind and if I don’t get them out they will live in there and fester and transform into other things that I cannot interpret and I’ll end up wondering who I am and why I exist at all. It’s a slippery slope when I keep the words in and I suppose if there is any takeaway from this at all it is this:
Get your words out in whatever format feels right to you; speak them, write them, sing them, paint them. Whatever you need to do, get the words out of your brain and into the world.
This kind of communication, this kind of fundamental transmission will likely open the locked doors and the shuttered windows and the empty, cavernous hallways of your mind to new words and then the cycle can be repeated. It’s an exercise and it’s what I’ve found to work for me. Take it if you like it. Leave it if you don’t.