Shared Spaces

How is it, I wonder, that an ongoing, but unspoken, longing transforms from an aspiration to a concrete action? The answer, I think, is hidden beneath the rubble of private thoughts; wishes kept in a locked box, its key concealed by time and obligation. Once articulated, a desire becomes an ambition. An unexpressed hope becomes a declared request. Interest and opportunity then intersect to incite action. It is that simple and that complex. A friend—who views the universe through a similar but slightly different prism than the one that informs my vision—might attribute the transformation from one person’s wishes to another person’s unplanned and uncoordinated and unconnected response to synchronicity.  That may be it, too. Or it could be simple, random coincidence. There’s too much to think about in the overall scheme of life in this expanding universe to warrant giving the matter any more sustained thought. I will simply bask in my good fortune and refrain from demanding that the universe explain its rationale and its actions to me.

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Finally, our new house has two new toilets and two new faucets in the master bath. And Habitat for Humanity‘s ReStore picked up old light fixtures, ceiling fans, and so forth yesterday; the garage looks far roomier today than it did yesterday morning. Today, the flooring crew is returning, a day earlier than originally planned, to work toward finishing the floor. Either today or tomorrow (or another day, perhaps), the same crew will install newly-stained quarter-rounds along the baseboards. And, perhaps, we shall see evidence the house is nearing completion. Except, of course, I have plenty of painting/touch-up yet to do. Now, though, the floor is down and I have to be much more careful not to spill paint. Earlier, I could be careless because paint splatters fell harmlessly onto the subfloor. No longer. The house requires a gentler touch; a softer interaction; more focus and less wild abandon. I now need to ask you who are reading this post: do you want to buy the house I live in? If not, do you know anyone who does? I’d rather handle the sale without a Realtor’s commission; but I will share the savings with you, of course, if you help in that regard. 😉

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After falling asleep early on during our viewing of season three of Yellowstone a couple of nights ago, I finally caught up last night to the spot where my girlfriend stopped watching. But before I did, I found myself drifting off almost immediately after I sat down to watch. Television series and film, no matter how much I enjoy them, act like an instant anesthetic, the sort of stuff they administer in advance of a colonoscopy. I have to fight to overcome their sleep-inducing power. At any rate, we’re well into season three. Despite the fact that the series is most definitely modeled after the soap operas I recall my mother watching after she retired, it is riveting entertainment. The differences between this soap opera and the ones to which my mother was addicted are these: 1) this one does not take place entirely indoors on a small, stage; 2) this one is laced with all manner of profanity; 3) this one comes with nudity, sex, gratuitous violence, gunfights, bar room brawls, stunning horsemanship, and other such attractions that draw the viewer into the story; and 4) this one’s setting is a place with magnificent scenery. Oh, and the story line in this one is exceptionally well-conceived, although remarkably complex. I’m glad to know that season 5 is or soon will be in production. Thanks to Deanna for recommending we watch it!

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I took a break from blogging this morning to visit with my sister-in-law, who dropped by for coffee and conversation on her way to the post office and to cat-sit for a friend. Her responsibility for caring for a cat reminded me of the responsibility we had until recently (mostly she, not me) for caring for a marvelous little dog. I miss that guy. He was a good companion, even when he was not in the mood to sit in my lap or play “catch” with a soft doggie toy. Yet missing the joys of engagement with a pet carries with it the relief of responsibility for caring for the animal. No more necessary walks (to avoid unpleasant accidents requiring cleaning up smelly doggie droppings). No more regular delivery of doggie medications. No more arrangements for doggie housing to enable us to take trips. But, still, even with those responsibilities, the pleasure of having a grateful, playful creature around the house was great. Maybe we will do that again one day. Maybe not. At the moment, there are too many competitors for our time and energy. And money. Let’s not forget the cost of pet caretaking. Carefree pet ownership requires significant cash reserves or a lottery windfall.

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This afternoon, we will treat two good friends to dinner at a nice restaurant. And Saturday we will treat two other good friends, who will visit briefly, to lunch and a tour of our house “under construction.”  Before long, we will invite a few other good friends to join us for a meal and a tour of our new home. Recently, we went to the house of other good friends for dinner. Our circle of close friends is small but extremely important to our contentment. There are times—many times, in fact—that I wish our friends shared my vision of a “tribal” compound; a place with private homes, “public” shared space for gatherings, wide open outdoor spaces, and sufficient distance from neighbors and the hubbub of commerce…but close enough to commercial convenience that going to and coming back from it was not an onerous chore. A dream, in other words. Enough dreaming. I need to reenter the real world and make some progress today.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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