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textile design,  1985,  pigment on wool flannel

textile design, 1985, pigment on wool flannel

 

Home.

Bed.

Is there ANYthing better than coming home after a trip?

No.   There isn’t.

I came home from the Mayo clinic and I burrowed.   Didn’t have to get wheeled into the cavern of an MRI machine or watch 10 vials of my blood walk out of a room while I was left with a neon armband as a parting gift.

No.   I left my bag still full of stuff and crawled in bed.  The window wide open to the rain and intermittent shots of streaking sunlight was plenty of theater for me.   Birds came.   They ate.  They left.   All was good with the world.

There is a creeping knowledge I am feeling taking hold in me;  that of the utter satisfaction and peace in JUST BEING.   We’ve all heard it- the metaphysical choir singing this song but really…  for me,  it’s kindof been just a nod toward what I THOUGHT that meant;  to JUST BE HERE NOW.  Now, I am noticing more moments of ‘nothingness’ opening into ‘something’.

I want more of this thing.   I want more nothingness.

The buddha says that desire and wanting are roots of all suffering;  I want to be healed,  I want more money,  I want to know…  stuff like that.

I want more nothingness probably falls into the wanting category.

This is too complicated.

I’m going to bed.

comments

One Response to “Home”

  1. Phillip Retzky on July 5th, 2009

    I think nothing means not wanting, but what do I know….miss and love you Cathy.

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