It's an overcast day here out my window. Low clouds over San Francisco. The tips of Sutro Tower (Pao de Asucar) dragging it's three prongs in the fog, like dragging your fingers in water.
Touch the world lightly.
The big tasks are progressing. The house should be more or less prepped to go on the market early next month. It's not hard to divide objects, contents of the house, friends. My anger seeps in when we talk about bank accounts, 401k, stock accounts, house profits. There are good days and bad days. There are papers to file. Attorney's to pay. The world of hustling, not honest contributions. Detachment is the key.
Not a lesson I am enjoying learning.
One day, many years ago, I was sitting at my kitchen table. It was a humid balmy midwestern day. I watched as a spider dropped down from the chandelier onto the table. It detached itself from the thread and walked down the table away from where it came. The spider had everything it needed to survive.
You have everything you need.
I've been thinking about speaking in gestures. The world understand gestures. Those times you go out on a limb. The times you take a risk. Because, really, what do you have to lose except some self-importance.
I'm looking forward to the weekend. I'm heading south to the edge of the Mojave to this amazing ranch in the San Bernardino Mts north of LA. I really want to spend more time out there, but I have boxes to pack, a house to sell, etc. etc. I'll have lifted all roots from the Bay Area soon enough.
There are other things I could get all excited about. Want to make actions or have decisions made. But now is the time of waiting. As much as I like to do it myself, the world doesn't go on Heather's timeline. So I'll wait. I'll watch. I'll learn. I'll be detached while feeling the full range of emotions. That's controlled folly. Complete detachment while in thick of it.