This whole moving thing is getting on my nerves. I’m looking at the to-do list and freezing up. Surely this is a much better afternoon to make some progress on that unfinished Zelda Skyward Sword game rather than sorting (again) through the boxes-of-mom.
Meanwhile, youngest stepson is moving into the UC Berkeley dorms today. That’s kind of big too. The Beloved is off helping with that. Seriously. the last child is now out in the world without adult supervision. Who invented this process?
And we’re packing up for a weeklong farewell tour of Oregon which involves camping and house renting and friend’s beach houses and old hotels. And preaching on the Sunday at the end of the week. So, yes, I’m going to write a sermon too. Books, computer, swimsuit, sleeping bag…. and all the stuff I want to take back to Portland for my daughters, my brother, (do I have everything?)
Meanwhile, gigantic jets are invisibly (to me at least) roaring over the Santa Rosa Airport, (only five miles away) in rehearsal for the big air show this weekend. This is not a soothing sound. (incoming!)
And, today the tree guys came by to take down one of the three beautiful Sycamore trees that have graced our front lawn since the house was built. It was struggling and our neighbor wanted to install a watering system which was going to compound the root damage already sustained.
Still, its hard to watch a tree murder in process.
Change is change. The image I hold when I start to stress out a lot is that of a boat getting the barnacles removed. Getting through the water is easier when its all done. But it sure is noisy while it happens.
“There are people like Senhor José everywhere, who fill their time, or what they believe to be their spare time, by collecting stamps, coins, medals, vases, postcards, matchboxes, books, clocks, sport shirts, autographs, stones, clay figurines, empty beverage cans, little angels, cacti, opera programmes, lighters, pens, owls, music boxes, bottles, bonsai trees, paintings, mugs, pipes, glass obelisks, ceramic ducks, old toys, carnival masks, and they probably do so out of something that we might call metaphysical angst, perhaps because they cannot bear the idea of chaos being the one ruler of the universe, which is why, using their limited powers and with no divine help, they attempt to impose some order on the world, and for a short while they manage it, but only as long as they are there to defend their collection, because when the day comes when it must be dispersed, and that day always comes, either with their death or when the collector grows weary, everything goes back to its beginnings, everything returns to chaos.” ― José Saramago, All the Names
Elves are like trees, grounded and focused from the trunk down but graceful and agile on top. – Orlando Bloom