Being Home Again

“I have been given the freedom to do as I see fit. It’s high time I razed the walls that I’ve constructed.” -R.E.M

I’d be concerned if it all didn’t seem so good. Lately, I’ve been turning off the TV, setting aside my tablet, phone, and Ipod; and dragging the old rocking chair outside onto the back porch to sit under the night-time sky.

I recovered an old rocking chair

When I re-covered this old rocking chair, I picked this fabric because it had a Time Lord feel to it. Now on the back porch, it feels like a wooden throne on a ship at sea at night.

The old deck out back creaks when you rock on it. It creaks and moans like a pirate ship swaying and rolling at sea. Part of the rub is this deck was built with nails instead of screws, and now time and the Texas Sun has worked the nails out from the slow warping, undulating boards. It suits the night. It blends with the sound of crickets that quickly chant, “in-Yang, in-Yang, in-Yang” in waves and it feels like it is these waves that I sail on into the black. It seems all sky. As above, so below. I imagine the dark ocean would be a mirror and the deck ship on cricket waves would be cast in a sea of stars and rolling clouds with no difference between sea and sky and stars and me. How could TV top this? Why would I distract myself from this? Our world?

It seems a choice I have, this nightly swim in the night sky, or the glorified lava lamp we call the media. I chose to build walls with my choice, once upon a time. Walls from the bed, where everything is turned off. Where there are no distractions. Just you and your thoughts on a bed at night. For some reason I dreaded going to bed.

I realize now, so much of TV and the internet was just that, a distraction from going to bed. I didn’t want to go to bed because I was not interested in having those thoughts. What thoughts? I don’t know, but I know I wasn’t interested in having them. Just laying there, alone, thinking. Then I would feel? No, I felt emotions watching and reading things. But the bedtime emotions would be mine, alone. That’s the difference. These thoughts were because of me and my doings, that was the fear. Being in bed, in the dark seemed like facing myself and choices and conclusions.

So I slept on the couch. Passing out most nights. Staying up late. Eating. Distracting.

So much has changed. It’s hard to pinpoint when or what changed, though it often feels like a switch was switched, or a veil was lifted, and perhaps that veil was the many distractions of the 21st Century. We are swimming in them.

I think one of the first steps I took was learning to be thankful. I know that I am crazy thankful when I am on the back porch, rocking and pretending to be on a ship at sea or dancing to the frogs and crickets and energy of the night. Spying the night birds and bats at work from my perch. Working towards a peace in the endless war with the mosquitoes. The moon phases, the stars and I’m nearly chanting my own thank you, thank you, thank you’s. I mean it too. It is perplexing to know I had the freedom to choose the media, or the night sky, and I chose TV. I go camping for the night sky, along with many other reasons, but the night sky is a big part of it, and it is just outside my door every evening.

Thank you is my constant mantra. My prayer. My sincere feeling. Thank you. Thank you will be on the tail of the kite I build for this coming kite season in 2016.

Meditation, prayer, eating good, and getting outside are all part of what I get. I don’t know what flipped the switch but they all seem the boon.

I know I need to focus, but I sure love the sea of possibilities.

I sometimes tear up at night, alone, rocking on the back porch. It is all so beautiful. I’m so thankful, and glad to be here. I’ve been watching the sun rise most mornings. Noting the sunsets, as always. The sunrise is the hope and second chance. The sunset the forgiveness and grace after another long, hot summer day.

Maybe I should be concerned and I would be, if I didn’t feel so good.

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