I woke up to the last threads of the dream world drifting away like cobwebs on the dwindling darkness. I had words still resting on my tongue; white, grey, black. They formed an old photograph hazily sitting in the corner of my mind with an awareness that I do not know the answers to the questions I had. Sometimes, I even realized I could not fathom the questions either.
What if I lived in a world where I had complete responsibility for my actions? The vividness of my dream could be a reality. I could be like the seashells Anne Morrow Lindbergh contemplated as she stayed in her cottage by the sea. I could find such a gift in simplicity. I could discover my own Gift From The Sea; be it in the mountains or field side or tucked in a backyard in the city.
I do not like to feel homeless. I am disconnected, aware that where I am is temporary and the future so very unknown. I look down the path and see a bend in the road and instead of contemplating the beauty of my surroundings I keep looking over my shoulder and worrying about what lies ahead. Silly girl. I suppose patience is part of this journey. Learning to not only live in the moment but embrace it with such joy that I experience it all; every mundane minute will become beautiful because in truth it IS beautiful.
What if I could trim away the excess of my life to the point that I truly discovered myself? What if I could fit into my own tiny space like a turtle or a snail, or put up curtains in my own little pumpkin shell? No one could oust me from this situation. I would lay claim over my own choices of what came in and what went out. This would be my mine. Even the waste would be mine and I would have to be diligent about how I handled it. Not a single drop of water would be wasted for there would be finite amounts both in and out. I would have to contemplate each time I turned on the tap: how long, how much? It is as if I would be pouring water from one glass to another rather than opening a faucet and letting it pour down a drain. There is no responsibility if we do not know an end to infinity. When I turn on a tap I cannot truly imagine the beginning or the end of the journey, I only see the flow in that moment.
Last night I dreamt about living in a tiny home. I felt the weight of the responsibility of carrying everything I need and want and putting both into perspective. I saw my knuckles whiten as I still hung on too tight to things that really don’t matter. I began to take inventory again on what really matters to me. If nothing less, the idea alone inspires me.