A Day in the Life

Every day is completely different from its predecessor and I have the freedom to choose what I will do with them from the moment I wake until I lay my head down at night. Some days we wake early and do yoga with Rodney Yee, while others we lay in bed until 9, just talking. The other morning we walked a frigid but sunny 8 miles to get coffee.

We've been doing the work of reviewing all of our things, one item at a time. We decide what to keep and what to sell or give away, so that our load will be lightened for the future move. It's hard. We both have different ideas of what we find worth saving.

We shop and cook for ourselves again now. I find it incredible how quickly perspective and health improves by changing what I eat. We eat meals when we're hungry and delay them when we're not. We're eating a lot of kale.

This is an amazing and tense time. We are balancing in this place where all of the dreams of what our future will look like are being tempered with reality and all of the work it will take to make them happen. Imagine smashing a white-hot iron, hammer to anvil; The iron's changing shape does not share a hint of its final form yet - and it's blistering hot with so many fearsome sparks. Now imagine that every few minutes the hammer confusingly disappears from your hand and you must go look for it. In your search for the tool, the delay cools your iron. You must start over.

Sometimes it's hard to sleep. We both talk about the many ideas and thoughts going through our heads. Our futon doesn't help; It is shaped like an inverted ravioli, with thick edges and a noodle-thin center. If I can, I imagine myself laying in a summer field of tall grass, the ground still warm under me. All I can see is the sky and the swaying fronds that surround me. I can smell the soil, the moist exertion of the plants that cushion me. I close my eyes and imagine them sinking down, my body melting into the ground and joining the soil. I quiet my thoughts by setting them gently aside. Their clamor diminishes, one thread at a time.

We cling to each other.