Two years. Twenty-four months. Some number of days, hours, minutes.
I don’t know about you, but for me– those words don’t convey anything. Nothing at all.
Does this mean I’m always in the present? Hmmm, that sounds way too evolved for how I feel. Aren’t evolved people supposed to be free of the hurts and stings of life? I like to think I have made progress but it is such an elusive, circling, spiraling movement, I can’t be sure.
This morning the air is thick and humid. The sky is overcast, the streets wet from last night’s rain. Cardinals call back and forth from the bushes on either side of where I am sitting here in the front window of the living room. Henry and Daisy are languid on the floor in their state of suspended animation– one part of them ever on alert for my move to the door.
First week of July 2011: exact same weather.
That is what brought to mind my ruminations about time– two years ago this week we moved in– I think it was like the 3rd or 5th of July, but don’t quote me on that. Can’t be sure.
What I do remember?
That first night was full of thunderstorms and uncertainty.
That first morning was hip-deep in boxes and raw nerves.
I cannot believe how much change has occurred in my life in two years– most of it not visible to anyone but me — and yet. DAY-am! I have come so far since I landed in this little rented apartment on a small street in Providence. I wish I could say all my lessons came in a box of chocolates tied up with a bow, but hey—
I am ever processing the events of my life — wanting to do better, understand more, feel lighter — for that very reason, I came in here a few minutes ago with the intention of reading back to what I wrote in July 2011. HA.
It always flips me out– this time is no exception.
wanting so much to find an answer
or to feel that I am beyond whatever undertow
was pulling me down at the time–
and sometimes I find just that, but more times than not
(many more times than not) I find myself reading words
that hold nothing but the struggle
without any glimmer of redemption or purposeful growth.
even though I know better than that.
Last night I was reading in Epictetus’ The Art of Living (I know, right?! am I the biggest bore you will ever meet?) and loving on so many passages that fed my spirit and helped me re-align my energies. As always, ever grateful for people who write shit down so I can then read it hundreds of years later and think Dude! You had it going on! Thanks for sharing-—
This one in particular was still with me when I woke up (late, ugh — late to sleep means late to wake).
There is no such thing! What is a good person?
The one who achieves tranquility
by having formed the habit
of asking on every occasion,
“What is the right thing to do now?“
Ahh, tranquility. May you be my constant companion in the days, weeks, years ahead.