In the previous post comment Joanna asks me, “How are you liking/loving the same place? Maybe you’re there for a reason, you’ll have to let us know…” It is a life truism: You ask someone something one day and and the answer would be completely different on another day..or even later on the same day.
I am questioning the continuation of this blog. When I spoke with my sister on the phone yesterday and told her I was writing for today’s hump day post (every other week) she seem startled. “What?! Why are you still doing that when you’re not traveling anywhere?” I said, “For writing practice.” I thought, “I travel in my mind — all the time.” … I’ll ruminate on the matter.
Back to Jo’s question: Returning to the same house in Cambria, it was easy to be smitten once again with its natural beauty.
Across the street are miles of trails. From my balcony, I see whales spout during the day and a gazillion stars twinkle at night. Good neighbors, good townspeople. Yet as I unpack, nothing “fits” the same. Granted, there’s isn’t as much to fit. After the fires and mudslide, I sold and donated most everything. Except for the leopard love seat, I kept that.
I’ve been hitting thrift stores for necessities — dishes, a desk, a table, one chair, two bar stools, oh, and a piano bench from a curb! (I spent the last year traveling out of a suitcase the size of an extra large backpack — Less is More.) I’ve got Music. Books. Artwork. Sentimental stuff. And yet..?
I’m sleeping on an air mattress. A “real” bed was supposed to arrive today. Not happening for awhile. For consolation, I alter perspective: I am “sleeping on air” rather than a blow-up bed!
In my journals and in posts of the last year, I often remind self to give a place its Time. A Place, like many things, reveals itself slowly…
So Joanna, in this moment, my answer is, “I can’t answer you…yet.”
“Look for the bare necessities
The simple bare necessities
Forget about your worries and your strife
I mean the bare necessities
Old Mother Nature’s recipes
That brings the bare necessities of life.” – Terry Gilkyson (Jungle Book)