In a Quiet House

Sitting in a quiet house, our brains are left to wander.

I have a Shins song in my head. I know the tune but only the last word of each line. Crusade. Right. Hand like a knife. Forget about it . . . girl.

I am thinking what a shame it is that we do so much to numb ourselves. We get high and drink too much and blather at people and always need to be DOING something . . . so we don't just sit still and wonder.

I have been thinking about my little cousin who's in art school and hoping he's getting enough philosophy. He should be studying philosophy so his art has cool meaning. The search for the knowledge of self alone can create a life's work.

I have been thinking about the word hobo as used by my friends in the program. "Camping like hobos . . . " "Noble hobo." "I was living like a hobo, hiding food in bushes." And I am wondering to myself why that would be good. Hobos were lost men. Not men searching. But men alienated, aimless and demoralized. Aren't roots good? Aren't family and safety and connections something we are really searching for? Ultimately? I am reminded of Michael Perry and why he moved home.

I have been thinking about the weird red scrapes up my arm, that I must have gotten behind the bush when Dad and I were putting in the window well covers.

I have been wondering why all the sudden there are so many flies.

I watched the rescued baby bunny munch on the dead lettuce I put out when I thought he was abandoned. I find it funny that the bully squirrels, so bold and pushy around the birds, are deadly afraid of bunnies.

I can hear the mourning doves. They sound like they are in the ceiling.

Outside my office window is a sea of green, lit well in the cloudy afternoon. The sun is rolling on and off. Bright and dim again as the wind blows the clouds around. Now that the leaves are full, I can’t even see the houses across the way. I am in the woods! Like my day dream.

There is a fly stuck between the screen and the window. He is keeping his distance from the spider that just joined him.

I am thinking about the lake in Wisconsin and how beautiful and strange and dreamy the north woods really are.

I am noticing it’s time for lunch.