here i am, this morning, in front of the fire. The Wonderbird happens to rest just on my thigh, just above my knee. where i can admire it. and i do. What is it, i am wondering that i LOVE so so so much about this little three pieces of stitched cloth? like really, LOVE.?
and i'd grated a potatoe yesterday to make hash browns. pressed the moisture out with this dishtowel and then left it on the counter. this morning i used it on my lap as a napkin when eating infront of the fire....and there..on my knee
and after going to the hardware i took off the plastic from the long south window of the Room. it will get cold again, a few days, for sure, but i am DONE with plastic on windows. and i WASHED them. vacuumed the shelf. rearranged the baskets.
so..all this. in this kind of Permanent Campsite home i live in. and i cut this out from the New York Times this morning...
it is an article about the latest generation of Lost Boys (and Girls) in Sudan. i have some kind of unknown connection with Sudan. with these children. there is a picture of a girl there in a frame on my shelf now for over 10 years. and i look at this child. part of me looked so closely at the cloth in the photograph. how cloth plays such a part in a life. how cloth here emulates some sense of home, of personal space. just a thin layer. on sticks. and this is an example of what i am trying to say when i say that i feel that the life i live has such a disconnect from some of the things that work at my Heart. so..now, this boy is pinned to the wall, with the Dalai Lama. and i try to make some little sense, some little order of the Feelings that arise. and i look around me and see such incredible LUXURY. and i think of my grandson who is 20 something and can't somehow make something out of himself. and i FEEL this stuff.