1. ARTIST 2. PRINTMAKER 3. If I had a band we’d be The Long - Distance Lovers

ITS BEEN A YEAR

ITS BEEN A YEAR

 

Last week was the 26th, the day I arrived at Piedmont Hospital to find my mother was not well and wouldn’t get well and that nothing was permanent. Of course nothing's permanent.

 

Comfort zones and P(Zone shrinkage)

 

Its an inner circle, in a series of concentric circles, it's a nest where you reside. I remind myself, not often enough, that when you cling to what is comfortable your circle of comfort can only contract. Cocooned from the vacuous ether that is 'too much too handle' by another circle that looks more like 'the poetry reading you kinda wanna go to'. Maybe there are infinite number of circles with blurry edges. Regardless, the journey from inner to outer is marked by less and less comfort and more and more growth, until there is no more comfort but ultimately at its outermost extension, no more growth. Just floundering. But stretching yourself from your inner comfort, to slightly uncomfortable but totally manageable, you expand, you wrestle, you stretch that circle of comfort. It's a good thing.

 

Nothing is permanent.

 

When you stop stretching, the world doesn't care, it keeps changing. Contraction. As the world changes so, too, do the things you once found comfortable. Maybe some of those comfort spots disappear, a friend moves away, you get uncertain about your writing style. The grocery store seems unfriendly all of a sudden. Your comfort circle is shrinking. You haven't stretched and now you're stiff, and your house has grown smaller. Your shirt is too tight. You used to accept your love-handles, hugged by your shirt, but everything feels more difficult now and your life is out of proportion.

 

I waited just to miss the New Years' rush back to the YMCA

 

It is Feb. 3 (or was when I first wrote this) and I will take it as "my new years". Not a celebration, but a time when I make promises to myself and the people I care about, when I check in with myself and them; am I living intentionally, are we? Are we preceding without hesitation? What's next? How can we make our lives more than bearable, more than what's been lost.

 

I made this on my birthday. Year of confidence, year of honesty.  (It's a tag for your car's rear view mirror)

 

car tag, year of honesty, year of confidence

 

My sister drove six hours to be here for thirty hours. The three of us "kids" went to the thrift store, the four of us (my dad joined us) ate cuban food, and watched a movie, and I made chocolate candies and egg salad sanguches, and we did practical things like apartment hunting. Things she would've enjoyed doing. I didn't even cry.

 

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