I’ve been sleeping in the outdoor bed for a week or so now. In the early mornings I come back inside to write, so my music won’t bother the still-sleeping neighbors. While I sleep, the two cats take positions at the bottom of the bed, one on each corner, facing out, and I feel as if I am guarded by living gargoyles, tails switching.
Hours, of which there are so many, seem to slip into days, of which there are fewer, and already it is March.
My plan is the same – to tie off my affairs, finish the couple of books on our layout table, and head back to MIT for an extended sabbatical. I seek a space outside of time, a space to lose myself inside my own head without responsibility beyond reporting back on the places I go.
It is me that’s changed. There has been system expansion…mission creep. The without responsibility part being only one of the state changes. The world around me is opening into Spring; I feel the depth, the restlessness. As Rob Brezsny said, “Whatever you long for has been changed by your pursuit of it.”