"[Y]ou got to begin where you are because before you take off on any wild-ass wishing you got to ground yourself, firm, in the dynamics of your situation[...] But we're alive, alright. I mean I'm the one here who's dreaming this dream. So, if I'm me then you must still be you."
"I think maybe I'm you," I said.
"No, I'm me," he said. "That's a basic dynamic of this situation and we got to keep that straight."
Grounding myself in the dynamics of a situation is a constant source of work when things are unusual. The dynamics of this particular situation are some how both obvious and mysterious to me. Literally, I am living at my parents' house while my boyfriend and I remodel a bathroom, paint the walls, and clean out the basement. Literally we get up at 6 everyday to spend a few hours waking. We stretch, give love to our animals, eat breakfast and so on. Literally, I saw the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen last night as we drove through suburbs on the way, again, to Home Depot. The rays of the sun were brightly defined orange stripes between blue sky. The horizon was shades of fuchsia.
I guess what I am learning is that making what your life what you want is a journey. What I am "used to" is getting what I think I should get: a job, a degree, a sensible suit for interviews. What I actually want is much more ephemeral and undeveloped: time to write, a nourishing routine, travel... transcendence. I have to make the existence I am looking for, I cannot apply for it. That thought, as I write it now, actually makes me nauseous. From where I stand today, looking at the path of my future is like look down a path leading into thick brush on a mountain trail. I have literally no clue what's over the next hill, it could be a flat, grassy meadow plateau or a 55% incline to a peak. The path could split. There could be a mountain lion or crystalline spring. There could be more path, the hospitality of which, is not discernible.
Reconciling the activity in my mind with the dynamics of the real situation has been difficult at times. Remaking this bathroom has a lot of new energy stirred up in a place that has had only potential for decades. I feel I've entered a room, in my mind, that has been hidden for just as long and is filled with things that are somehow familiar and alien at the same time.
Committing to writing about these emotions in tandem with the events surrounding them is difficult as well. It takes time, and it is hard for me to concentrate: to take the time needed to do that writing work when I hear my man, in the bathroom of my parents' house hollering about a shitty welding job some schmuck did in the 70s. Sometimes I may not commit and I just may get up to go demolish sheet rock. At least I have options. I also have pictures of this demolition/remodeling project as well, but we have not yet located the illusive USB cord.