17 January 2013
What would a map of your life look like?
Mine would have four directions: This (now), That (then), There (ahead), and Here (always).
Between This and That, the streets would seem quite orderly, like they had been pre-planned, like not too many huge shifts had happened yet. The streets would be where you might expect them, with childhood, Britain, tri-state area, their story, my story, these stories. The difference between family, friends, and self. All distinct roads, but sometimes crossing. Some dead-ends: dancing, animals, law, chemistry. The renamed streets: Ex- Close, Left Street.
Between This and There, the streets follow a river. The river is Change. The river changes its name, and is later Being. The mountain is called Perspective. And the forest is called Retreat. Everything is more organic. There is a path through the park called No Path. All of the buildings are where you would want them to be, and not where they were expected. A few things have repeated from the first quadrant: Music, books, laughter, voice. There is a graveyard for what has been given up: greed, judgment, immunity, obsessed. There are smaller trees in the park, young, and new to the light: practice, vulnerability, truth, clarity. The current house is acceptance.
Between There and Here, things draw into alignment, but less than half of it is mapped so far.
Between That and Here, a few things are firmly rooted: what I want more than life is to see love in these hands. A garden with small plants. A knowingness. An intuition of how and what to tend.