The cabin sits mostly empty, sort of cold, holes in the wall where things – pictures, art, random nonsense – once hung. I stop in every few days to grab a few more things, or shovel the trails a bit, or sometimes just stand in the middle of the room visiting with the ghosts. And yes, there are ghosts there… quite a few of them really. Ghosts of days gone by, of lives past, of thoughts and dreams and misspent youth.
They say when one door closes another opens. Not sure if that fits here though. I have certainly walked through another door, but this one… this one still seems to be standing open. And the wind blows in sometimes – chill and damp- rustling the leaves and the dog hair dust bunnies. It blows my thoughts around as I stand there in the middle of the room, looking out one of the windows; looking into the past.
I had dreamt of burning this place to the ground. I had dreamt of knocking down walls to expand it or just to knock the damn thing down. I had dreamt of building a new one… and as some of you readers may well know even started down that path. I enjoyed that latter dream for a while even though it made some new ghosts and – it would seem – is now a ghost itself. I probably would have botched the job anyway. It could have been fun though and the dream still lingers when I stand outside and look at the building site. I can still see the skeleton of the frame standing there, imposing, as I have envisioned it many times in the past. And then the wind picks up and it blows it all away through the ghosts of the trees that once stood there; the trees now reduced to a pile of square logs. I had meant to give them new life, new purpose; to stand them back up where they had once grown, to go on living, albeit in a slightly altered state. I do not know what is to become of them now.
We make choices in life, sometimes based on opportunity, and sometimes based on… well, who knows what. Those choices often involve a weighing of options; a comparing of pros and cons measured against our wants and dreams, possibly against our morals and ideals. Sometimes those choices are a trade-off, sometimes they are forced, and sometimes you just walk away. Sometimes a new door is waiting. Sometimes that door is of your own design; sometimes it is unknown and unexpected. Either way we never really know what lies beyond until we walk through it… and even then things might not make sense.
I guess this all sounds somewhat melancholy, but I do not intend that. Rather I am paying homage to the ghosts. It is better to acknowledge their existence than to go on being haunted by them. I have walked through a new door but does that mean I have to close all of those I have walked through before? Some may be OK to be left standing ajar. Others though, I expect that yes, I ought to go ahead and button up…. But that is not always so easy as it might sound. Sometimes the ghosts do not like being locked away.
“Does the room, the thing, have purpose?”
I wrote last time of being an empty vessel, of being open to possibility. Not that long ago I wrote about being held upside down to have all the nonsense shaken out. So now I have taken my old life, and many from before that, tossed them all out onto the floor of that little cabin, roughly organized them and boxed them up… because that is what I do… and packed them away. Some are all jumbled up together because, well, that is how life is. Others are compartmentalized because, well, some ghosts do not play well together.
So the room sits mostly empty. Each time I take something else from it I pack something else away. A funny thing though, each time this happens I have seemed to add something else to my own emptiness and it is starting to fill up. Too many things and thoughts and ghosts. Too many forgotten dreams and lingering echoes and unanswered questions. I cannot manage them all right now and they are swirling around stirring up the dust. So yes, in answer to Juble’s question I think the room, the thing, does indeed have a purpose. It is a place to put the things. To put them in their place, because if there is to be things, they need to have a place… and with my sense of order they need to be in that place dammit. Problem is this takes time; time and often careful contemplation to figure out how best to organize all the things. But this is not always really about physical space – certainly that helps – but there is much more to it than that.
Many times in the past when I would move on – an activity that I am fairly familiar with – it was not uncommon for me to simply unload most of the things. It is always easier to move with little to no things. I do not like being attached to things and I may really need to revisit and re-entertain this notion. That said, parting with 6 months’ worth of things is a whole different animal than parting with 13+ years’ worth of things. The tyranny of the room, of having space to put things. I have had four rooms to put things and so naturally they are all mostly full, well except the one…
Spring is lurking around out there and as we all know spring is a manic time of year. This sneaky, hesitant spring in the ‘banks though can be devious…never trust March I always say. It will lead you along by the nose, through the sunshine and melting snow, and then suddenly slap you in the face with a -20 cold snap. It always makes me jumpy and good god if I get any more jumpy right now Child Unit One may be forced to strap me down or something.
In addition to all of that, I am entering a new stage in life. Last year was… well, yeah, it certainly was. A lot has happened in the past six months and much of that has been documented here through this blog. This has been good… for me at least, but of late I have had some difficulty keeping up with it… for various reasons. For one, I am in a different state of mind than when I started writing this thing… in a different place all-together…literally. I tried to reflect that recently when I altered the look and the title (slightly) but that does not seem to have done the trick… something does not feel right about it now.
Anyways, for now it is what it is. I cannot manage all the things, and the ghosts I think would be best served going to the next Deadman’s Party. There are other events to attend to… eating ice cream not among the least of them; nor are smiling, holding hands, and talking. We have a wedding to plan.