…so the (albeit, uniquely punctuated) text message seemed to giggle just past midnight as J let me know she was home, and I thought, “Real.Talk.” With Dave Matthews songs still resonating in my brain and my amiga safely home, I rolled over and nestled into clean, new, white sheets covering an old, but comfy, mattress placed unavoidably prominently in my living space, as it is in a studio. I felt compelled to say thank you to someone, anyone, just to acknowledge the sentiment expressed in the text, which I fully condone and share.
I thanked Matil.
She raised one cat eyebrow and sighed, literally, as she rolled over annoyed to have been disturbed by her human host.
I scratched her head and went to sleep with a smile on my face.
I woke up in fewer hours than I would have prefered (Matil is not so sure she loves her life at the moment) in my new home with sun streaming in the windows (not terribly enhanced by a cat yelling at my face) and a whole day ahead of me to do whatever I wanted. Of course, there were several things I needed to do that I didn’t want to do, but you know what? It felt cool to have stuff to do (that equals having a job); a place to do them (that equals having a place to live); and people to call and talk about them with (that equals having friends). All in all a fairly winning combination.
Really, I am too busy and probably should be getting more sleep, but all in all I keep looking around and marvelling at just how things have evolved in my life over the past few months – though I imagine it has a bit to do with how I have lived for far longer than that – and thinking, “Really? It can be like this?” It makes me wonder if this is some new dimension in my life that I have long waited for… or if it is just a new attitude towards a life that has always been pretty great.
Don’t get me wrong, I am very appreciative of the life I have (so far) lived. I realize that it is a good life. But still, it has seemed in the past that I was always waiting for some inevitable change and predicting that change would be bad. The proverbial dropping of the other shoe. Perhaps it is mind control. Maybe it really is just about calming that Monkey Mind and being able to take the thoughts that wind you up and look at them like interesting fun-house distortions rather than trying to rationalize them or make deals with them or fight them. Either way, it feels pretty good to know that the big guy upstairs is barefoot.
[And it’s also nice to live on the top floor if he ever does decide to drop something…]