Mostly orderly-ish…

I’ve made great strides in creating a sense of being in place and almost a feeling of being at home.

I haven’t felt “at home” in the time since Linda died. I moved a lot and was too adrift to even recall what home felt like. I had a generalized feeling of a yearned for nostalgia for a center that my life formerly revolved around.

I was stuck in the past and couldn’t see forward. I’m sure that is what everyone refers too when speaking of the grieving process or any major displacement in one’s life.

Now I can see a few things that are very helpful. Pretty standard stuff, but new  in terms of context.

Everything is a process; all events are result of process and all processes are a series of small events; some seemingly random or unconnected.

Yearning is merely wanting things to be other than as they are.

It is the maximizing of delusion. Yearning tells me that life, as constituted, is not acceptable and that it could be replaced (made better) by either a different past, or a different now, and, a guarantee of a different future. Ideally, all three of the preceding. Yes, different from what?

Yearning, a soup of time that never combines into anything tasty or nourishing.

So that’s where I’ve been whiling away several years? Or so I thought.

It turns out these may be the most productive years of my life,  because I have learned something very useful and I had to take it in through experience; and that takes time. All doing takes time and usually effort and even mis-directed effort can be helpful, because without the mis-direction  I wouldn’t be able to see the illusion that seemed so real yet, eventually astonished.

In practical terms I was captivated by the idea that there would be another person, that I would take on and they would take me on; as sort of mutual-help-meets and we would venture forth into some vaguely agreed upon hazy-future-time where everything would work out somehow, and that would stop my drifting.

The sense that I now can allow a home to develop around me, one that is not predicated on my trepidations and the unknowns, but rather on the opportunity to examine my day-to-day life and my response to it as it presents itself, unbidden.

I can be at home within a refuge that is based on teaching and on experience, and the faith that there is a reason, a very good one, for this one Being to have arrived at this point in this place at this time.

Solutions are few and

Doubts are plentiful and 

Worry exists. Yet today the

Haze of smoke from fires five

Hundred miles away makes

The Sun red. Yet far enough 

Up from here, the sky is

Blue. This is weather in a

Changing climate. It is 

Where I live and breathe.

Home, whether I like it or not

Is not the point, never was.

I created this. It is.

 

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