stay, still


I am writing this a week before you get to read it, at the beginning of the end of the year. Outside it is overcast, dark when it shouldn't be, but from my spot on the living room floor the light hits my face just right. There is food on the table, and books to be read, and it is hard to think of terrible things. I am better now at anchoring myself, at being whole-heartedly home, at not giving in to the desire to seek movement and noise some place else. It is important, once in a while, to take stock of what you have so that you can acquire a basic understanding of what you need, a soul inventory of sorts—in the very best cases, these things turn out to be the same. It is important, once in a while, to be the person who isn't going anywhere. To stay still; to stay, still.