What are tears?
We all carry the ocean within us,
Salt and minerals and water.
Perhaps crying,
Be it joyous or grieving,
Signals the desire to return
To this primordial state.
A wish, unspoken, even unconscious,
To be as we began.
May you know you are home
And be at ease.
I am come late to build my dwelling.
It proceeds slowly, hampered by age and infirmity.
Lest I get discouraged by this,
I keep in mind that my life antecedent
Has all been preparation.
I now have more skillful means to construct a proper residence
With patience, foresight, and expertise.
The foundation has been laid through prior experience;
The design has been shaped by acquired knowledge;
The materials have been gathered with painstaking care.
I know that I might not live to see the completion,
But that is not the point.
If need be, those who follow can finish;
Whatever I manage to construct will be beautiful and sturdy.
Where do I take refuge?
If I build my happiness on external factors,
I will lose this. Always.
A futile task, as this brings short-term satisfaction
Which leaves me wondering where to go next.
My home will present problems
So that I move to find a better place. Again and again and again.
I think surely this time I will be content.
But there I am, and I remain the same.
I cannot leave myself behind
Yet I cast my unease as resulting from the wrong circumstances.
I want to stay in the place where I dwell
Without adding to my own suffering.
Just being alive can bring pain enough.
Let me learn wisdom, practice kindness,
Thereby to find peace.
This is a true story. It actually happened to me.
I was much younger at the time, which is neither here nor there.
Bedbugs invaded my residence. How? I never knew.
This is still a mystery, as my home adjoined no other abode.
I suspect I unwittingly imported them via mail but don’t know.
While I had the house treated, I went to a cheap motel.
I awakened the next morning with familiar bites.
The room (and the entire motel) was similarly infested.
Wherever you go, there you are. Changing places doesn’t always change circumstances.
A valuable lesson, indeed.
Where do I find my home?
If external and anchored to a particular place, persons, or circumstance,
I always live in a temporary abode, a shifting unstable shelter.
Eventually I will be homeless, as will we all.
If internal and built with sturdy foundations shored by constant reinforcement,
I have a much different type of dwelling, a flexible steady residence.
If you place your happiness in that which can be taken from you,
You will lose your happiness.
Love where you are; love those around you; love what you love, in any way.
I do so and find comfort in all of these.
They will change and even pass away,
So I cherish them for their fleeting presence.
My hearthstone is placed in another realm,
Connected to all around, until it crumbles also,
Impermanent as I am.
I think I’ll stay just a little bit longer.
Life here in the mountains can still surprise me.
A wood turner who makes steampunk lamps.
A chef who practices traditional Chinese medicine.
A professor who tickles trout for photos .
A dear friend here from far away who is found to be a distant relative.
(And that latter, I’m convinced, is some sort of Appalachian magic-
Because in the mountains ALL folks are related!)
And that’s just to mention people.
If I were to start talking about these things.
The way the sky looks when a storm is about to hit.
The Canadian geese and the train whistle that help rhythm my day.
The greenery of the town, and my back yard in particular.
(Ere the six old trees that stand sentinel come down in a bad wind,
I might not live to write again.)
And music. Sigh.
The music strikes a visceral cord in me.
The same wail that I heard in the old Cajun songs runs through songs.
So at the end of the day, I feel at home.
And how could I leave a place that produces music like this?