Sunday, March 07, 2004

Odin 4. Missing home, learning how to have one

This post was added later, backdated to when it was written.
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I am lonely today, and miss Jeff.

I feel if I am floating down a wet green river, but am neither drinking nor swimming. I don't know if this is because, in the midst of theatre everywhere, I am not making any. Or if it is because the Odin is such a physical theatre, and I am so out of shape, so immobile.

On the spiritual level, I have lost my horse. I was riding along the empty road towards home; now I am walking.

I'm still searching for my path. Much of theatre does not fit me; yet a bright green wind through its center does. Much of software does not fit me; yet the seethe of platinum minds and blinding fluency does.

I want wealth and time. Brilliance and fallowness. Love and independence.

I miss myself.
this white driftwood came
from the sea -- a tree that grew,
blew down, bleached, beached, burnt

your own true path is
waiting and you are on it --
even this has purpose

if you are a crea-
ture of the wind, no amount
of sun can please you

all the torrents you
desire lie just beyond this
dessication: walk
Perhaps I am not here to learn about theatre. Perhaps I am here to learn how to cook, how wonderful fresh foods taste when served together, how warm a long table can be, how much the spirit craves fresh flowers, candlefire dotted carelessly, shining wood floors, and the ease of after-dinner talk in silky languages. To learn how to have a home.

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