This past week I have mostly been out of my present life, and that was oh so good. I don't think I realized how much I liked it, until I was back front and center with my present life, to be able to distinguish the very different reality that seeps in when I am not here. "Here" whatever that means. Here is wherever we go..not so for me. Here is this house, this town, this life I am living that once was a plan, some plan with plans within the plan. Now I am just a visitor to this "here" and mostly wish I could go to "there" instead. Funny, not intentionally, but I really sound like a Dr. Seuss book right now..
Almost by the mile, as I leave this house, this town, this plan that never worked out, as the miles stretch behind me and in front of me, whether by car, plane, or boat (Dr Seuss again..) but really all kidding aside, it is like I leave a dimension, and find some sort of new air, some new space that I can just crawl out of my little snail shell, unwrap myself and stretch out a bit, and all of that, and there is so much of "that" it all just seems to evaporate and I barely recognize it anymore.And that is such a freeing feeling. The feeling I have sought for almost a year now, to run away, and I cannot, which is like some kind of sentence, for a crime I did not commit.
So while I am forced to stay here, and cannot go there, I do so in my writing and my oil paintings, and sometimes in my dreams when they are not haunted, seeking a new me and and a new day..seeking so quietly, in the quiet that has become my here.
Almost by the mile, as I leave this house, this town, this plan that never worked out, as the miles stretch behind me and in front of me, whether by car, plane, or boat (Dr Seuss again..) but really all kidding aside, it is like I leave a dimension, and find some sort of new air, some new space that I can just crawl out of my little snail shell, unwrap myself and stretch out a bit, and all of that, and there is so much of "that" it all just seems to evaporate and I barely recognize it anymore.And that is such a freeing feeling. The feeling I have sought for almost a year now, to run away, and I cannot, which is like some kind of sentence, for a crime I did not commit.
So while I am forced to stay here, and cannot go there, I do so in my writing and my oil paintings, and sometimes in my dreams when they are not haunted, seeking a new me and and a new day..seeking so quietly, in the quiet that has become my here.
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