I Should Be Packing...

... but instead I'm sitting on my bed, looking around my half-packed room, justifying slowness and slugishness on the basis that I have a cold or am fighting a cold or something in between.

The past two years. It has been an in between. I've always known that, even when I didn't know what came next and where 'what came before' ended and where 'the in between' began. In a lot of ways, it's all still a bit muddled. But the muddled can be cool and refreshing. That I've learned in the past couple of years. This also can be joy.

"I know my way back perfectly well. like the back

of my hand, as it were. but look, the labyrinth walls

are high hedge and green. this also could be joy."

- Marty McConnell, Miniature Bridges, Your Mouth

It was an inkling years ago: if I ran my hand against the green hedged walls, if I didn't follow the lines I knew back to the beginning or out to the end, if I instead stayed and admired the walls - the green hedges - inch by inch, I would find something else, something more. Always, something more. And, yes. That day, yes. Today, yes. The days in between, yes. Yes.

It was all, perhaps, to move to NYC and do precisely what I am doing. Although, I couldn't have known that then. And I still don't know exactly what comes next. But I like the feel of these couple of inches of hedge against my hand. And that is enough. That is something more than enough. 

All this, perhaps, to say: I don't know what comes next for this space. I'm not leaving it, of course I'm not leaving it; somedays I think it's the very best of me, or the most of me, or most me. So no, I'm not leaving it. But this might be a bit of a warning: it might become a muddled mess. (This post might be a muddled mess, a bit of a preview, perhaps.) But the muddled can be cool and refreshing. That I've learned the past couple of years. This also can be joy.