Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Lord, I was born a ramblin man [sic].
Well, I was. I am a restless soul, apparently. I've lived in every time zone in the U.S., inhabited dozens of different apartments and houses. I've lived in cities, suburbs and out in the country. I've lived by the ocean, up in the mountains, on the plains, the Pacific Northwest, now the midatlantic swamps. I've lived alone (not for a long time, though), and with a variety of co-inhabitants. In spite of all the hassles involved with moving, I find the process exciting. I like reinventing my "lifestyle," finding rhythms that suit the shape of whatever new space I inhabit. There is a way in which, when I move, I become a brand new version of myself by virtue of the difference in how I cut through time/space. Does that make sense? It does to me.
The past nine+ years here on Tennessee Avenue are an anomaly in the life story of a Bedouin such as myself. I rented this space in a state of desperation, assumed I would only stay a short time, maybe a year or so, then move on. But I was so wrong. Whoa. Or should I say wow? Why have I stayed so long? That's easy: everything works, in the house, with my housemates, and on the block where I live. For so many years, every time I got restless, the guidance that came to me was If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
But everything has a lifespan, everything. I'm bearing down hard now on what is to come; the life I've lived for the past decade is fading, unwinding. It's spectral now, barely visible. The old world is passing away, oh yeah.
I should be packing right now! Onwards and upwards. Shalom.
I absolutely love these ancient tv videos from the 60's. The quality sucks. Sweet, isn't it?