the sadness

Posted in Uncategorized at 10:39 pm by Administrator

when i think about leaving, there is the intricate jigsaw assortment of considerations that gradually materializes upon the cold white plastic tabletop that is an IKEA representation of my consciousness, which is exceedingly plain. but when i pound that table with my fists—as i am strangely inclined to do—all the pieces come apart, and in their dispersion i see something other than a puzzle to be solved. i see the profound sadness of their forlorn edges and outstretched fingers. i tell myself that i am not sad, but i have sadness.

sometimes, as i have learned through the years, it is good to sit down with sadness, even if in the end one does intend to bid it goodbye.

the sadness, i imagine, is of uncountable attachments. attachments to the job i have anguished over, which i now realize that i have loved with great intensity and even jealousy. attachments to the roads that i have run, which never once yielded themselves up to ice or snow. attachments to the places where i sat and ruminated, where i nursed a coffee alone, where i took a drink at the bar while i waited for something. i didn’t think of these as attachments; i thought of them as way stations on a path to somewhere, not knowing that in these moments i would casually send a small root of my soul into the walls of these places, by way of memory. now that i am wresting my soul from these people and these things, i find myself like the stem of a flower i meant to fish out of the earth cleanly and without much ado; i am on my hands and knees now, tearing it out of the earth that it has grown into, shearing roots that run deeper and longer than anything that showed above ground. i am the stem, because the petals were torn off by the force of my exertions, and because the roots are nothing but fractured tendrils now. the stem is indistinguishable from a weed. it is as ordinary as anything else that is tossed by the wind, and now it will fly from my fingers and float across the field, across the world.

the sadness is knowing that i made a home here, and that i loved the many things that i dismissed or even despised. when i first came here, i felt like a guest in this magnificent place. i could have left and considered myself enlightened on its account. but years later, i am departing everything i have come to know and cherish and call my own. it is a bit heartbreaking, to sit here with sadness.

i have sadness, but i am not the sadness. so i can sit here, with sadness, for a little while longer, knowing that when i choose to turn out the light and leave for the last time, he will still be there in the darkness, minding his own thoughts. most likely he will not follow


Be kind to yourself

Posted in Uncategorized at 11:23 pm by Administrator

as i was cleaning out my office today, i ran across this poem i jotted down on a notepad at some point.

Be Kind to Yourself

you want to have purposeful days.
you want to be generative.
you have a kind of ambition.

hold these, and know that this is a part of you
but not all of you.

there is the underdeveloped thing in you—
a quiet, neutral, conscious man
who takes things slowly, and suffers less.

maybe you need a season of your life
to be him, through and through.

maybe, if you are him for long enough,
you will produce the gift that your former lives
chose you to give.

but perhaps giving this gift is inevitable?

did you know
that at the end you will not graduate from life.
you will simply leave it, with a sudden
and surprising loss of everything.

and all the countable things will be miniscule,
and all the uncountable things of worth will rise
like mist off the morning water, a mystery
far greater than you ever expected.

you live. hard to believe or to understand,
much like the childhood memory of being alone
in your room, with the falling dust caught in the light
and glimpsing—just glimpsing—your moment.