Archives for posts with tag: home soon

It’s Monday. 10 more Mondays left in the year. How wild is that?

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

It was an ordinary night. I slept through it, waking only once. I woke feeling rested, and also feeling as if I’d been away for quite a long time. πŸ˜‚ It was a good weekend. I got home around noon and enjoyed hanging out with my beloved Traveling Partner. I missed him as fiercely as if I’d been quite far away. Funny how perspective can be quite different than reality.

Unpacking didn’t take long. I’m glad to be home. I was glad to take the weekend away to paint. I’m grateful for the opportunities. I’m grateful for my beloved’s support.

I yawn from the side of the trail. I’m not actually sleepy. I watch the stars awhile. I breathe, exhale, and relax. Daybreak is aways off yet. My nose is running. I reach for the tissues in my pocket. It’s all very ordinary. I think back to a conversation yesterday afternoon with my beloved, speculating whether or not we may have COVID or lingering head colds. Neither of us seem particularly ill, just a bit under the weather. The sinus congestion and this bit of an irritating cough do make me wonder, though. It’s going around. “What is?”, you might ask. “All of it”, I would likely reply.

Be safe, Readers, get vaccinated. (“Against what?”, you might ask. “Against everything”, I would likely reply.)

I sit watching the stars awhile longer. I think about love… And dinner? Seems premature, but it takes longer to figure it out on a glp-1. πŸ˜† I’m barely interested in food, ever, a mild inconvenience. It does tend to make planning harder.

Chilly morning, but not really cold. I could happily go back to bed, cozy and warm, and wrapped in blankets. It is, however, Monday. It’s already time to begin again.

I am thinking of a hot summer day, humid, sweltering in the still air, waiting for a summer storm, or a breeze, or an excuse to retreat to any room with an air conditioner in the window. I am thinking of the past. It is a metaphor playing out a bit like a video in my imagination. Car on blocks in the driveway, hood up, and a sweat soaked mechanic head down over the engine, peering into the darkness below the machinery, gesturing vaguely with a wrench and calling out probably relevant information over her shoulder. “Yep…Here’s yer problem! Wiring’s crossed. You got no spark.”

It’s not a moment of ‘real’, it is a fiction, and I smile as I walk on toward the light rail station to head to work, thinking about the things that work, the things that don’t, and the colorful gentle humor of the way I ‘communicate with myself’ while I walk – not quite fiction, not quite memory, sort of ‘live action’, something like a screenplay, a bit like watching a ‘choose your own adventure’ video… and as useful as any other thought I might craft, truly, without the potential hurts of assuming it is ‘real’ and therefore more valid, or valued, than other thinking. I let my imagination jump the chasm across my injury to bring insights from me to myself. lol I learn some things through my mind’s eye and the Theater of Absurd Conclusions… and sometimes I just enjoy it.

Spring is approaching. My daydreams are filled with trails, trees, wee creatures watching warily as I pass, plans for hikes, and camping to come, and thoughts of home, and home making. (Go ahead, define the difference between ‘house’ and ‘home’ and get back to me; I’ll wait.) I am in a place in life when ‘putting down roots’ and feelingΒ at home – really ‘at home’ – matters a great deal… but it isn’t something I’ve experienced very often in life, and learning good practices for building a sense of home isn’t as simple as it once seemed in the abstract.

…I am quite fortunate to be well-supported, emotionally, by my traveling partner on life’s journey (and… the secret is out – that’s why he is my ‘traveling partner’; we are traveling, together, on life’s journey). It’s quite a long trip from where I once was, to where I someday hope to be – it’s nice having some company along the way. πŸ™‚

So for now, I walk on, still learning, still practicing, still putting intent and will (and some verbs) into finding my way ‘home’.

I can feel at home in a tent, among the trees... so home is not a building.

I can feel at home in a tent, among the trees… so home is not a building.

There's something about garden flowers that feels like home.

There’s something about garden flowers that feels like home.

Home is where the art is.

Home is where the art is. “Summer Meadow” 12″x16″ acrylic on canvas w/glow. 2014

 

Feeling at home transcends permanence.

Feeling at home can transcend permanence of place, but I don’t count on it; some places never feel like home.

Home is a feeling...

Home is a feeling… or a matter taste.

Something that connects who we once were...

Something that connects who we once were…

...and who we are, now...

…and who we are, now…

...with what matters most. "You Always Have My Heart" 8" x 10" acrylic on canvas with glow.

…with what matters most.
“You Always Have My Heart” 8″ x 10″ acrylic on canvas with glow.

How will I "find my way home"? "Daytime in The Nightmare City" 10" x 14" acrylic on canvas with glow, glitter and micaceous oxide. Indoor light, charged. 2014

How will I “find my way home”?
“Daytime in The Nightmare City” 10″ x 14″ acrylic on canvas with glow, glitter and micaceous oxide. Indoor light, charged. 2014