This blog is tending towards the mystical lately

“May today there be peace within. May you trust the Universe that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content knowing you are a child of the Universe. Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us.”

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Wherever you go, that's where you are

I was sitting at my desk this afternoon, the same desk I have had for 12 years, typing away on my computer and when I looked up I thought “Where am I”. I wasn’t sure right away, was I in Alexandria, no, wait I’m in Philadelphia. It’s all the same to me. Now that thought intrigued me.

It seems that now it doesn’t matter where I am – everywhere is just a place. I seem to have lost all attachment to places, or even things. We bought this house but I feel no differently about this house than all the others, which we rented. It’s just a house; a place; I live here. Tomorrow I could live in another place and it would all mean the same to me. It wouldn’t mean anything at all.

We’ve been here a month and I am used to where the stores are and how to get places, and so, it’s just a place. I belong, I don’t belong – it doesn’t matter, I’m comfortable being out and about.

I joined this Poetry Writing Workshop at the Senior Learning Center at Temple University. I made my way there last week, chit-chatted with people, plunked myself down in the classroom and had no hesitation about participating – and of the 14 people in the class – 11 of them and the teacher all know each other well.

It seems interesting to me because I didn’t use to be this way. I used to be very attached to places. And things. I hated moving. I hated change. It scared me. And in the past I would have been intimidated by that group of people, all chummy and friendly and me being an “outsider” .

It seems I just need a few things to anchor me – like my bed. It’s just a frame, a foundation and a mattress, but it’s familiar. I woke up the other morning, disoriented because I knew I was in my bed, I just wasn’t sure where the bed was! Once I figured out where I was, well that was okay. I swear, if I had discovered that me and my bed were in Baghdad, well, that would have been okay too.

Wherever I am, it seems, that’s where I belong, for the moment. If, in the next moment, I am somewhere else, well, then THAT’S where I belong. But I don’t belong any where forever. I have no more roots. I have no more attachment to places, and I’m fast losing my attachment to things.

I exist in the world, touching down here, or there, and it’s all the same. It’s the strangest realization. Nothing means anything special; everything is equal. The constants in my life are my friends, no matter where I go, they are still there for me. I can reach out, they are there. I drag the cats around with me, they adapt so well. My husband is here, and when he’s not, that’s okay, because he’ll be back…So it matters little where I physically am – I could walk out my front door tomorrow and be in Topeka, and I would just shrug my shoulders and say “Oh, well – here we are in Topeka” And I would go right on doing and living and being involved.

I find this very odd.

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