another funny thing. i took pictures of me smiling today, only because Rachel said i have gotten the art of taking sinister looking pictures pretty much perfect. thing is, in this picture, my knees are killing me and my back is moving in for a tag to jump into the ring and kick my ass. i am kneeling on a lumpy futon that now serves as my bed, scooping books out of an attic alcove to put onto a shelf which has stood empty, while the closet is full of books. i am in pain, in other words, and i am cleaning, which does not alleviate the pain. BUT. i posted a similar picture online on FB, and people are acting as if they are seeing the second coming of Jesus on prime time television. i do smile, i laugh a lot, i enjoy wry humor, i love good comedy, and usually am not in this dark a mood as i've been lately. but i don't show it to people all that often, i suppose. mostly because it doesn't seem to do much good to show people that you are not the troll under the bridge anymore. guess maybe because there's so many trolls down there now, it's harder to get anyone to believe you're not just one more troll. whatever the case may be...
so, i got up today and i said my prayer and i read my books. i didn't go walking as i planned, because i stayed in bed longer than i'd initially planned to. just tired, i guess. when i got up, my knees were still hurting. i'm fairly sure this is arthritis, but i don't have my medical file to verify it. i went downstairs, taking a load of stuff to wash with me. i figured, if i didn't walk, i was going to make this an internally productive day. so, what did i do today?
well, i made my mom coffee, myself a pot on the stove top, heated my aunt's water slow enough that she'd have to turn it up to have tea, and therefore would turn it back down and off when she was done. i made breakfast for everyone, including my dad, and at this current hour it sits still in the microwave but i don't care. i rearranged some things in the attic, swept and washed bedding and flipping mattresses (smile, it didn't hurt at all...lie...) and i emptied the last of my clothes from my trunk and took them upstairs and got them separated, useful from giveaway. i went to the basement to work out some similar things, empties a bag or three that i had stuff in, swept the floor, but i can't do as much down here because there's just too much stuff and it's too diffuse. i cleared some numbers from my dad's phone, fixed a chair in the attic, helped my mom pick out her outfit for the Hall tomorrow, so i guess she's going to go and i will to. i talked to Rachel for quite some time today, and i talked to Lonnie as well. i took out a bunch of trash. i played two lines on the Powerball, just because 450 million, you should play something if you don't just have 450 million laying around. i looked for a cd cleaner but didn't find one at dollar general. guess its almost passe as well.
i'm going to go upstairs shortly, take a shower and shave, and keep it moving toward the attic. i'm going to try to sleep early tonight, try to get up and walk in the morning and do whatever presents itself on Sunday should i wake to see it. i am planning to make something for the pot luck, but it may turn out to be a quick buy. don't know just yet.
i've been meditating on something, something that i think is at the heart of a lot of what goes on here at my parent's house. i feel it may be why so much dysfunction continues to proliferate, when there should by this point be resignation at the least, and perhaps acceptance and change at the most.
this house has no discernible heart.
not for my family anyway.
i think it never did. it's not the house of our origin as a family, that's on the east side. it is a house that used to be a hair salon named Samson and Delilah. and what i mean to say is this. every house has a place where family gathers. where there is a collective imprint of spiritual and psychic energy. sometimes it's the kitchen, sometimes its the television room. sometimes it's a parlor or even a sunroom, a porch. it's often the kitchen in black families, to be honest.
on the east side, the house had several hearts, because we were so fractured. but the kitchen was the main place. perhaps the other places were like bladders and kidneys, not hearts, allowing the toxins to be passed from our sick state out into the ethersphrere. but, this house has no heart for us, for my parents even. the house is divided into territories. mom's territory is the dining room, which is her bedroom now, and the downstairs bathroom. dad has the second floor pretty much sewn up, and has most of the basement as well. he has the attic too. there's a point to that, i'll get to in a moment. there is no kitchen table; there is no room for one. no counter space either. the living room is the closest thing to a heart that exists, but it is more of a nexus between worlds. just a thru-way, a wormhole that goes from hither to yon.
my aunt and i are intruders, for the most part. she has a bedroom on the 2nd floor, used to be my baby sisters. me being in the attic, and my computer stuff in the basement, am encroaching greatly upon my dad's space. but there is nothing that is collectively a place of gathering. and it shows, in all that we do, in how we conduct ourselves. we satellite around each other, we are magnetic poles pushing ourselves away from each other until the force weakens with distance.
it is not the best place for someone to gather their spirit. but that is exactly what i now must do.
i am attempting to instill a heart, at least one of my own. i am praying for help doing this. if there is a heart, a discernible heart, then perhaps there can be a healing, a place of change and love and medicine. i don't know for sure if it can be done, but i know if it can, it is a thing that God will do, because it's far beyond my ability.
I am grateful to Jehovah for the awareness and the work for today. i'm going to get it together for tomorrow now.
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