Another Monday after an uneventful weekend. The days slide by in a gray wash lately. I can’t seem to get enough sleep. When I walk Leonard, sometimes my head is full of words that disappear before I reach home. I suppose it makes no difference really. I thought the thoughts, which in some ways is no different than writing them. It is just a question of time really until anything will disappear. Or become so warped by translations of language and culture that it isn’t what it was anyway. It makes the entire idea of authorship immediate, and maybe irrelevant except for that tiny shove of influence that a bit of dust has on the air current in a closed room.
Again it comes back to living in the moment – the moment containing the past and future, morphing continuously. There is a phrase at the edge of my memory about… and I’ve lost it.
It’s odd how sometimes these things will circle back and enter my consciousness more defined. In a sunbeam.
Saturday the sky held a rainbow the entire time we drove into town. My sense of direction is so poor that I couldn’t be sure if it were moving, or if we were winding over the landscape. I should look at maps more often.
Last night I saw a movie filmed in Norway. I thought it was fun that I could place some of the streets specifically by the color of the buildings, and the pattern of cobblestones. It isn’t even a city I have lived in, or that I could navigate on my own. But I recognized it. It made me realize how intimate I am with Stavanger. Twenty years of walking on those cobblestones, around those wooden houses and security fences. I know that place like no other. It’s no wonder I miss it. It’s not just the lake.
Things change. And sometimes that change causes a lingering ache.
I keep telling myself it is fine to have complex feelings. To lie on one’s back and blow dust about in a sunbeam.
Maybe it is more than fine. It just is.
Ren Powell, Poet | Playwright | Teaching Artist 
What’s your perspective?