thispresentsojourn

In the parking lot of Vickery, leaves which occupied the branches of centuried trees collect in cracks and fill some deep rough grey concrete grooves. Forming hundreds of tiny curly cups for rain to steep, this makes apparent the New season here.

And sure, Fall is a one. That isn’t what is meant. It is much greater than college peacoats and pipes – it is one which transcends the annual Cycle – one no greater than language for those within it to better understand themselves and the ones to whom they have been given.

I have lived in this space over a year and a half, and, in many ways I am a different person than the one who moved in, eating eggs on a bun and peanut butter from a spoon. But perhaps I am equally the same and different (and more and/or less of each) as when I moved in, full of some vision and in some worldview which this place accompanied or resourced.

I have dealt with addiction, with deep dependence, with awful depression, with considerable despair, with alienation, with a loneliness I thought I would only read about in poems. But also I have known real sharing, with an extent of beauty I had not yet, if by the common revelation of those with whom I share it.

Oh! And then I have been low and dark and terrible and insane and I have been high and I have experienced balance and things have at times seen perfection (if at least a compression of it), and so given is the ability to compare and contrast and, most importantly, to synthesize. And John calls. Trae’s hello. And each of Us collect on the rooftop; the treehouse.

And it is what it is as a human, to be, and to be within a certain framework in which some things are and will be chaotic (but perhaps not forever), and in which some things are characterized by order and sense, and that the two are not as much in a tennis match as they are taking a stroll together in the local Farmer’s Market.

I search for a house. A house to be shared by many, whether that mean only roommates or that mean also the gatherings and the music and the finest ale and thoughts on humanity and human thoughts and porches where those exchanges and experiences might be shared.

I am, I know, more myself than I have ever been, and yet I am less myself than I have ever been, and I can only think that this next step unto will be another step into the discovery these antitheses when synthesized yields.

Who knows when my thoughts on church will coagulate, or if they ever will. And what Ever means. And whatever Means. And this process is what is most important to my being-in-belonging/becoming. Here I am, & I am here. And now. And now I am here. And always there are Cards, and you’re wanting to best play them as they’re dealt.

My lease ends at the end of November, and what has been the Thing my life for years was planned (New York or rather Place Other) I have begun to see and to realize what I would like for my life to move towards — a deeper understanding of Home, of Belief, of Sharing, of Mutualism, in which value for the greater things exceeds the smaller ambition within which only lend to betterment of self.  There is again a hierarchy of priority, and I am thankful it does and hopeful it will exceed my self at all times and in all places.

If my self could die! I would want a singular understanding of reality to be redeemed into what is Whole and Greater, and I would want what has been lost in my own desires for career and/or for comfort to be displaced forever and yet replaced by what makes each of us better — Each Other.