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This old house | |
March 31st, 2018 | |
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I'm standing in an empty room facing a large bow window stretching | |
from the rough wooden floor to a rounded arching top. There is | |
some dust and dirt in the corners and fallen between the floor | |
boards gapping slightly with age. To my right is a door to the | |
hallway and eventually roof access. Behind me a closet holds shoe | |
boxes of memories. | |
I know the layout of this place intimitely, though I've never | |
really been there. It doesn't really exist. In a sense it is my | |
memory palace [0]. In another sense, it is like the Hi'ngwikan of | |
the Lenape people and I am its a-la-pa-cte [1]. It is a private | |
place of prayer and solitude where I can organize my thoughts and | |
intentions. | |
[0] Method of loci | |
[1] Lenape "Big House" Ceremony | |
I don't remember the first time I went there, but I do remember | |
that it started with that window. I can still count the panes of | |
glass, see the smudges of fingerprints I've left, note the | |
imperfections in the glass as it distorts my view. These details | |
give it permanence that I find vital. Knowing the texture of the | |
wood gives me a comfort that I need to let myself be free. It is | |
through that freedom that I find peace. | |
- - - - - | |
Earlier today vilmibm posted [2] about what home means to him, and | |
how he is able to find it digitally by just finding a quite space | |
and connecting to his familiar tools, music, and communities. | |
I love that sentiment. I have anxiety over the question of "where | |
is home" or "where are you from". I could probably blame the Roma | |
heritage but that feels like cheating. In reality, I just don't | |
associate a physical place with home at all. Though I might wish | |
an online community or my digital environment to become home like | |
vilmibm has found, I don't think that fits me either. | |
[2] vilmibm's feels (2018-03-30) | |
No, my home is a dusty old house with a big bow window that always | |
has a different view when I look through it. I know where I keep | |
the memories of relationships past (in that closet on the bottom | |
shelf in a white shoebox), and I know that when I get really sad | |
I need to go out onto the rooftop garden and greenhouse and let | |
the light pour into me. | |
- - - - - | |
Tonight I felt some of that sadness coming on. At first I thought | |
it might mean I was going to have a good evening writing (it's | |
much easier for me to write when depressed) but I felt it take | |
a sour turn in my mind. So, instead of wallowing I spent a little | |
time in meditation and prayer in my little old house. No sooner | |
had I sat on that dusty floor and placed my hands lightly on the | |
wooden slats when a cloud broke and a fresh beam of sunlight | |
warmed my cheek. Like everything in that place, the symbols speak | |
a language I understand intuitively. | |
That sunlight is what I needed tonight. That's how my prayer | |
works. |