I know I haven't checked in for about 4 months, breaking an unspoken rule for brand new bloggers. And the most interesting posts I read are about new things and change and upheavals. But for some reason I stayed away, maybe because I tend to cram major life changes into sudden bursts and might stall if I stop to think about them. I don't have much of the conventions that mark out time, I've always worked from home, I don't have kids and their milestones to measure change, so lots of my progress through life and time are internal, inside my head. I keep time with my hands, with things I make.
But since my Dad died in March, there's been an understandable urgency-a need to move around. I put up with things that didn't work because I was still in love with the things that did. But when they started ganging up, when screaming, banging, flooding, knife throwing neighbors (yep, knife throwing) took over my world, everything started to tip. Was I too in love with the little things, or, at least, too in love with the small details in life that the bigger issues were being neglected? There's a philosophy out there that proves itself true everyday, that if you can't be happy with small moments, you can't be happy in general. But can you be too happy with them, missing out on risk and change, turning away from the terrible complications that come with moving and packing and trying something else? I loved my little house even when it wasn't wonderful anymore-I don't have my own house right now. I don't have my little arrangements and my still lives-I'm sleeping on a pull-out couch. But it's really good. I can't really say why right now. But I'm open.