Thursday, May 04, 2006


I remember when I was young that my folks would walk around the neighborhood every evening. They knew the people who lived in the homes they passed because they talked and chatted. As I grew up, I grew up in a colder, wetter area. I walked on a treadmill.

Recently in the course of the prolonged move (will it ever end?) I sold my treadmill. There just wasn't room up here. My partner has an eliptical but there's not room to use it as we move boxes around and try and create space for two households in one house. So I walk the neighborhood.

I have met people who live here. I say hello to the people around me. I know, at least by sight several of the neighbors. If I go in the afternoon down one street there is a young mother who takes her child to a small park. In another direction there is an older couple who walk with their grandchild for a short ways.

I find that as I walk farther and into areas where there is more money and I pass the larger homes, that it is less interesting. No one is home. Perhaps I see the gardener but I don't see people in their homes. I don't see the man in his garage working on cabinetry (or something). I see only faceless windows and large garages and no people who live there. It occurs to me that perhaps this is what money does. We buy these fine houses and we are then tied to them with no time to enjoy our lives because they cost so much. Yet we need the space.

As I move and reevaluate what I want, I realize I would rather have a smaller house, loose more possessions than have to give up the time to spend with friends, with family, and even with my neighborhood.

Monday, May 01, 2006

Slowly Coming Back

So I am slowly taking back my life from the moving process. It's surprising how upsetting it can be. I still don't feel very creative or that my mind is questioning the way I would like.

Here's a simple quote from the Dalai Lama, which is good for where my mind continues to be:

If you can, help others. If not, then at least refrain from hurting others.