I’ve been in this weird place all day.
I can’t quite put my finger on it.
Distant, like a storm, way offshore.
I’ve been sitting with it.
It woke me up at 3:30,
this uncomfortableness.
I want to transform it.
Transform it?
From what? To what?
How can I transform it
when I don’t know what “it” is?
What is this “it?”
I’ve been worrying about money.
There are so many
things to take care of in this old house.
And what about the traveling we want to do?
That old chimney,
the fireplace in the living room,
is showing its age.
It’s been standing there for a hundred years.
Todd showed me a crack.
“That concerns me”, he said.
We went into the basement
To see what caused it.
”I see it”, he said.
The weight of the floor joist was supported by the ends of these two bricks.
Over time, the bricks cracked and gave way.
Then everything shifted.
“We’ll have to support that joist and jack it back up.
Slowly.
If we move it too fast, the plaster in the walls will crack.
If we take our time, everything will slowly move into place. Nice and easy. “
Matter is so easy to see.
I can see where the cracks are.
I can forgive this old chimney for breaking and causing the floor to strain from the weight of the wall.
Emotions are harder to see.
Todd can’t point at it and say,
“That’s the issue. “
No, it takes patience.
I have to sit in a cloud
of feeling, watching, until slowly
an idea, a worry, a feeling
of inadequacy that caused my
confidence to crack shows itself.
What kind of jack do I use to shore it up?
I’m not sure yet.
But I forgave the chimney for cracking under its strain for a hundred years.
Surely I can forgive myself for the load I carry with my broken brick.
There is no shame in a broken brick.