Up at three this morning, two time zones east of my usual abode, so I guess that’s actually 1 a.m. I was prone but loudly rustling around in my head. Wind outside clattering the flagpole rigging and making a shadow dance on the wall outside our hotel room window.
Dash out the door at 6:45 aiming for airport: STL to SEA. Rain arriving in STL just as we left and once at altitude, there were delicious white clouds outside the plane’s window.
I thought about air a lot, and about how difficult it is to clear physical clutter while thousands of miles from home. I guess my soul must have been committed to the day’s exercise nevertheless, and found mental clutter to toss about. Not fun. Oh. I guess that’s what got started at 3 a.m. when I first woke.
This trek is about authenticity, right. So mucking out the mental mess is necessary. (I thought that was a later week in the book, oh by the way, soul–thanks so much for skipping ahead.)
But once home, and after a small nap, settled in with devoting my de-cluttering to my work table, which has a lot of trouble seeing daylight–you know, the old flat-surface-magnet thing and pretty soon you can’t even get to the book press or the paper punch what on account of the accumulation all about.
So I lit a fire, to warm the room’s temperature and ambience, and lickety split, I found myself burning old papers. Not what I’d set out to do, but hey, there was a certain symbiosis.
Now I am lighter (Light!! Flame!! Golden flickers!). I am free from many old business cards (including those of old flames) and sketches for things long-ago abandoned, and articles that I don’t need to keep (I can always Google them).
M/piles to go.
There’s something quite right in taking warmth from the flames as all this old stuff burns away.