Over the past couple of months, I’ve finished relocating to a new city. The process of finding an ideal-to-a-perfect place is difficult. What I look for is a congenial context of weather, culture, politics, community, affordability, and an overall ascetical environment outside my window. What I’ve found in my search is the narrow appeal for many parts of this country. Maybe I’ve allowed prejudice to cloud and interfere. Honestly, deciding on a perfect home is a daunting task.
One aspect that’s taken a backseat is writing. I’ve missed this process. Life has gotten in the way of life, but patience is never far away. As I settle and re-shift my routine to the enjoyment of brilliant sunrises and picturesque mountains, I’m recharged and inspired.
I confess my paradise of a morning walk through architectural-mind-popping neighborhoods, concludes with international television programs and news briefs (in the past was a very light diet). But after a relaxing early routine, the necessity of unpacking and sorting through stuff can’t be ignored, so television is the background noise. Amazingly, the landmine of negativity saturates the news. There’s a continuous downward spiral of darkness feasting and devouring the light of hope. I watch two haunting presences: the Russian-Ukrainian War and a rise in new COVID variants. Decisions ordering total elimination—are from a single-minded-demonstrative war criminal. Then on April 18th, a Florida Federal Judge struck down the federal mask mandate mask requirement on airplanes, trains, buses, and other public transportation. Noted, based on another’s jagged-brainless reality, this judge was appointed by Number 45, who rented, for four years, the house on 1900 Pennsylvania Avenue.
As I garner contentment in my new home, it’s overwhelmingly bitter-sweet, because so much is overshadowing humanity’s sunrises.
I’d like to end with a poem by Tom Charlesworth, written on January 24, 2008. I feel these words are a relevant tribute to the days once enjoyed but now lost, due to a league of individuals contributing chaos … based on their own distorted reality.
The ache of forgetfulness
reminds me of what is
and how little of it I sense.
How infrequently I see or hear
and how incompletely I feel the rhythm of life.
I’m afraid most of my effort is
spent toward objectives which have little
to do with anything but
fulfilling mindless needs
with petty human systems.
But now and then I shout at the stars.
They’re always shouting back,
but I’m not usually listening.
There must be some way of
making everything seem different,
of-being so completely that
questions are answered and time stands still.
“As I garner contentment in my new home, it’s overwhelmingly bitter-sweet, because so much is overshadowing humanity’s sunrises.”
I love this line. It resonates for me too. Thanks for naming the fact that there are still sunrises for humanity in this incredibly constricting suffocating current reality.
Much of life is spent trying to figure it out. I’d like to think I’ve landed on my feet with a clearer vision, able to digest the world better.
Hello dear Cheryl . . . and Tom, Thanks for the article regarding your new home, though not sure where that is? Portugal? And the poem. The mood of both your writing is sobering yet real, at least as I sense it. Appreciate you setting it down in words, however, I trust you will find some enjoyment and solace in your new home . . . with love, Zoë
Hi Zoe—-we’re exploring the world, one day at a time! I’m glad you enjoyed Tom’s poem.
Hello, Cheryl & Tom, too: I got chills reading Tom’s poem from 2008. One can only imagine what he would write in today’s world. I am totally aligned with the feeling of being overwhelmed at times by the Ukraine/Russian war and the Covid-19 issuances. We are surrounded by friends who have contracted the latter, and deaths of sooo many it seems all at once. Meditating daily on the wrongful war and Putin, in particular, I attempt to counter the madness with visualizations that will counteract the wrongfulness. Thank you for your very pensive thoughts on relocating, plus how this very act has disrupted what you are being directed to fulfill… your writerly Self. May you find the balance between making your nest and writing a world for others to nest themselves in as they read. God Bless you & Tom. May Peace Prevail. Amen!
Donna, as I look back to 2008, there’s a chill that comes over me as well.
I love the poem!
Yes, the words express a very deep meaning.
Lovely sentiments shared at a difficult time. Thank you. . . “there must be someway…”
A reflection of difficult times is understanding the WHY and moving toward a plausible solution.