no 34
Have you accidentally looked into the sun or bright light and then looked away, and the image burned into your eyelids? That’s an afterimage.
I moved into my new house this week.
Here's what I saw, heard, or sensed that’s stayed with me in the past week. Let’s begin.
The movers came and went. I stood in the empty living room, the back of my eye sockets burning. I didn’t know gratitude could feel hot like this.
I liked this house. The house gave my daughter and me a soft landing in Hokkaido after a tumultuous year of living apart. Living in the countryside, my daughter learned nature isn’t reserved for weekends or holidays. She fell in love for the first time going to school from this house. Its garden gave me cherries and grapes, cherry blossoms, lilies of the valley, and hydrangea.
I learned to relax here and to trust myself more deeply. Its roof sheltered me and gave me nights of deep, restful sleep. Living in this house, I learned to be. Be me.
In the winter, though, this snow-country house had a doubling effect. It was biting cold, and my utilities more than doubled. My daughter’s school suddenly felt far away: the snow doubled the commute. This house would have made a great summer home.
I like to name my houses. This one didn’t have a name while I lived there. But looking back now, maybe its name is Chrysalis House.
I wrote this section last week, edited it out, and decided not to publish it. It works this week on the theme of looking back and looking forward. Intuition has a funny way.
:::
With my fiftieth birthday coming up in January, this December feels like it’s on a quiet mission: it’s sending me off into the next decade. As I approach this threshold, I ask myself, “Who am I becoming?”
But maybe the real question is, “Who am I already?”
It’s time to celebrate.
Questions for You: What are some things about you this year that you’d like to celebrate? What do you want to take with you into the new year? What are some things you’d like to leave behind? What do you want to make room for? How will this shape your year to come?
Listen with your whole body. Curious about what it tells us, how we can use it to make meaning, and cultivate Relational Intelligence.
no 60 Have you accidentally looked into the sun or bright light and then looked away, the image burned into your eyelids? That’s an afterimage. I’ve been delirious, in bed. With Covid and 38.6 fever. That’s somewhere above 101 in fahrenheit. It’s not the comeback I wanted. In fact, I never wanted to leave. Sometimes we don’t intend to leave and other times, we don’t quite intend to come back. Today, I want to share some things that moved me, during a spell of non-feeling. An interview with...
No 59 Being present is the unique gift of being alive. This newsletter explores small ways to cultivate more presence. Whenever an experience stands out, my body makes a mental note of it. If I’m reminded of the event sometime later, I replay the scene and observe it. I listen to what my body sensed then, what it feels now, and to the message from the gap in between. I call this processing of a past event an Afterimage. In the last installment of Afterimage, I shared on the power of...
No 58 Being present is the unique gift of being alive. This newsletter explores small ways to cultivate more presence. Whenever an experience stands out, leave it alone awhile. Sometime later, replay the scene. Observe the past scene, what do you see? Observe what your body sensed then, and feels now. I call this processing of a past event an Afterimage. ::: The name for this newsletter first came to me in Japanese: 残像, zanzō— meaning, “leftover image”. It’s distinct. I like the sound. When I...