a shoji screen, a patterned rug, power-artifacts hung on walls. slowly my space comes together at the same time that the lives of so many are shattering.
all day i escape into the world of The Traveler, a book i began reading two days ago and finished an hour ago. (note the links at the bottom of the above linked page, all constructs from the novel.) there are even weblogs by some of the characters in the novel. the author (who, notice, “lives off the grid”) has created a reality that is so much like the one we are afraid that we’re living in, that he makes us feel that we really are living in it.
last thursday, i escaped with my mother to visit my grandson — five hours of driving for four hours of giggling with a goofy kid. thanks, i needed that.
two quotes from a beautifully croney character in The Traveler:
Every new experience is unusual. The rest of life is just sleep and committee meetings.
Any reality with king snakes and mint chocolate chip ice cream has its good side.
in the morning i will labor. plant some seeds. organize storage. finish staining a little balcony. then i will sit outside with my mother, scan the clouds for faces of cats, watch for the tiny jewel-toned frog who lives under a rock where the mullein grows.
i don’t know how to make this world a better place for those still wading and waiting.
all i know how to do is what i do.