Moving The House

Every person on the planet goes through similar events in the circle of life. But if you don’t keep a journal you are missing out on some amazing experiences. I hereby testify that the memories in your brain are not the memories you wrote down ten, fifteen, even two years ago. Granted, some things are best forgotten and when I re-read a passage in my journal, I often have to wade through a ton of crap. But then I read a paragraph or two that makes me laugh at the folly of chasing this brilliant idea or that crazy dream. All those seeds I scattered and thought would bear fruit, but fell on barren ground and came to nought. We do not travel alone. We are altered, detoured by others, children, lovers, friends, colleagues, who cross your path, travel with you, help or hinder.

The passage below was lifted from my journal two months after my mother died. I had just moved into my new apartment after living with her for a year and a half. There’s nothing like moving to shake you up. I have wasted a lot of time putting things in boxes and taking them out again. But everyone needs a house for your house, a roof over your head, a floor under your feet. For two to three months you are in chaotic limbo until your life is sorted, the boxes are gone and everything is in its proper place. You can carry on once again as though you were normal.

May 16, 2000

Day begins exceedingly foggy. I’m having a lonely wobble today. I had a feeling that once the move was over I’d feel worse, and I do. Surrounded by old books I’ll never read again and old photos of dead or soon to be dead people. They’re not very good company.

I’m enjoying the gift of not having to leave the house for one thing today. We are such slaves to the body. The time it takes to buy groceries, prepare the food, and then feed the body. The exercising, washing, manicuring, applying lotions and potions; the aches and pains that must be attended to; the clothing and housing it needs. The body is a selfish house. It’s too damned sensitive to stress. The food we love best makes it ill. The body is so limited compared to the incredible leaps our minds can make. And the very worst is when our minds finally become attuned to this strange instrument, it starts falling apart! This body, on good days, feels pretty good. But the spine is badly designed. The female organs are prone to misery. If only something could be done about the horrible differences between men and women. If only the emotions weren’t in such conflict with autonomy. Enough if only’s! Stop moaning and take your house for a walk.

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