today i started the process.
i began putting tools in tool boxs and milk crates,gathering plant pots and plastic sheeting from the garden,making piles of categorized objects, gathering trash into the truck to be taken to the dump....
i don't think i was allowing myself to begin this process till the women buying the place actually came, saw the place, and were real in front of my eyes all full of their excitement and love for the land and house.
so it begins....moving. something i've done like 36 times in my 36 years.
but i haven't had to do this for 4 an a half years.
this mountain my oasis of standing still.
same sunrise every morning.
gave me this.
but something this last cold cold winter snapped inside said enough.
enough hungry from suckling on open space quiet on your own.
i'm full of open space quiet. thats all.
my oxygen tank to carry with me.
i've got air
but no food.
i needed air more than anything else.
now i need food and human sweat and spit
beside my own worn frame and stringy muscles
laughter ringing in my ears more than wind snapped me
in 2 this winter.
something in me let go today.
dark movements deep within.
i'm boiling water to clean my altar and the stuffed animals i've had since i was born. they're covered in 4 year dust.
waiting on a shelf.
so i begin to gather and sort and pack of discard for the 37th time.
i should be able to do this with my eyes shut and dreaming.