9/22/11
Monday, Sept. 26, 2011 - 18:53

I had a home and stability, once - in my previous life I had comfort, if nothing else. I chose to leave that. One day, I got ants in my pants and chose to leave that all behind. No longer could I bear the suffocation or inertia. No, I was in motion, moving, leaving, burdenless. I dropped all that weight.

I moved and moved again and moved some more, and then one day in Seattle I got a sudden longing for a front porch, a place to sit, a place to be, to have some comfort, to belong. This sense came slowly and was an unwelcome sentiment. I moved and moved again and moved some more. I moved to a new city, once again uprooted everything and once again dropped all that weight, all those shackles of familiarity. The time came to furnish my little house and I couldn't bear the thought of buying a couch, I couldn't commit to a couch. A couch is so large, you can't just pick it up and move it yourself. You'd need help. You'd need a truck. A couch requires so much more than I could give.

But. I had a little house and a comfortable little living room. At the time, emotionally, I was crushed, and I would sit in my living room and cry, or I would turn up the music and dance, and one day in the winter the sun came out and lit up the white snow-covered mountain next to me and I stopped being so crushed. Flowers came up in my little flowerbeds that spring.

I moved and I moved again and I moved again, and now I want a home again. I want a home and stability, I want comfort. I want to belong. I rejected that possibility for a long time but now I don't anymore.

Also, thank you Rob Brezsny.