Transitions

Tonight, while I compile lists of data for my current job (soon to be my old job) in preparation for the transition from old to new, I rest my feet on my favorite piece of furniture.  This small seat is the perfect height for a foot rest, and in fact, many would probably suggest that it is in fact more of an ottoman-like structure.  The truth though, is that this compact, four legged mini-stool, outfitted with rather ornate, geometric carvings, is a prayer stool (or meditation stool, as that is what I've most commonly used it for, as have my predecessors since its arrival in the U.S.) from Africa.

Now, I wish I could tell you exactly where it originated, or even delve a bit more into its cultural significance, but I can't.  All that I know of the stool is that it was picked up in Africa on a trip taken by a dear spiritual friend of my family (probably received as a gift while he was there), and in turn, somewhere over the course of my knowing him, he passed it rather graciously on to me.  It has been with me ever since (probably a good ten +  years now and counting), and has been the ground to my soul on many occasions.

The curve of this particular piece of furniture is glorious.  Its hand carved and crafted, and I'm sure, having just the slightest experience in woodworking, that although it is simple, its the type of object that many a woodworker could admire.  As you sit in it, you first realize that yes, this is wood, and unforgiving, but soon accept how wonderful that is.  It forces you to sit erect, spine aligned, while at the same time, allowing you enough support and comfort to relax and focus on quieting your mind.  More importantly, when placed beneath a desk as I have it, the stool makes for the most exquisite foot massage tool.

Sadly, (no, joyfully, really) I digress.  My point here is not entirely related to the comforts of this little seat, passed from person to person and country to country, but instead, the journey that it has made and how symbolic it has become for me in terms of transition. 

My stool, made of dark wood, standing only a few inches off the ground, has seen far more than I have thus far in life.  It was made with great love, as many endeavors are, and when it came time to transition, it did so gratefully and unassumingly, ready to meet its new fate and keepers without fear or hesitation.  And while I realize that hesitation is not always a negative thing (sometimes we are best to pause for reflection before conquering the new aspects of our lives), in almost every respect I aim to move forward with the same poise as this sturdy, lovable little stool.  Hopefully that will be possible (I certainly don't see why not, because I've put in my fair share of work, and am happy to say I've tried my very best to be honorable to every party involved, including myself) and years from now I will be able to look back and say that I learned best how to transition from a stool.

At which point my grandchildren will most assuredly look at me like I've gone batty and run off to play in the snow or tattle on me to my future grown up children.

Cheers to the prospect of that!

A crab, a wedding cake, and cable tv...

A little random, and some of you won't much care, but in my most recent internet wanderings, I came across Fol Chen.  This fun band from Los Angeles has a unique, catchy sound, and consistently strange, yet entertaining music videos.  Definitely an A for creativity, and I'm happy to see that they're getting recognition - their music has been featured on Weeds and CSI: New York.  But, don't let me or those silly shows speak for them...they can sing for themselves!

"Winter strikes quick in these parts..."

Hello, February!

And to celebrate the season, the Midwest is donning its best white attire and heading out with every intention of dancing the night away to a deep, bone chilling wind track (because everyone knows that the best entrance comes complete with an audio cue).  With any luck, she'll be the bell of the ball and woo someone charming, and warm, like New Zealand or Easter Island.

Personally, I am celebrating the season by nearing the end of my current read, Jeff Smith's graphic novel, Bone.  This classic tale of adventure is a first time thrill for me, and I am amazed at how quickly I've been able to digest 300 page chunks of the whopping 1332 page, multi-book, complete volume.  This should not come as too much of a surprise, I suppose, considering the primarily visual nature of the book, but its still a testament to Smith's storytelling prowess, nonetheless.

The end is now in sight, with only 263 pages to go, and as I find myself setting down the epic more frequently to prolong the inevitable, I can't help but be reminded of a page in the very first chapter of book one, Out from Boneville.  It actually came to me today, at work, amidst all of the talk of impending snow-doom and the prediction of accumulations up to 3 inches per hour.

The moment (and really, that's ALL that it is in the story), takes place at the end of the first chapter, as our hero, Fone Bone, meets some unexpected acquaintances in the unfamiliar territory of The Valley.  At this point in the story, the season is fall, and Fone is warned by a rather comically large (or is he?) bug that "winter strikes quick in these parts..." so he had better hit the road quick, or he will be stuck in the area...which certainly wouldn't be good.  Not long after this conversation (probably about 20 minutes, story-time), Fone can be seen walking hurriedly through the woods in search of water and an escape route, mumbling about the onslaught of winter and snow, when the following scene takes place.

Bone by Jeff Smith - p. 38 of Out from Boneville

I think most of Northeastern Illinois was envisioning this sort of epic downfall at about 3pm today, and its probably a pretty good thing that we were disappointed.  But good things (or at least cold things) come to those who wait, because now, at the ripe 'ole hour of 10pm, we have full on white-out conditions, and I am happy to report that I cannot fully see the liquor store that makes up the back wall to my back yard, not more than 50 feet away from my kitchen windows.  Thank you, winter.  Thank you, and goodnight.

What was that other thing I was gonna say? I swear it was relevant...

I will be in bed by 2am.

In the strange way that things happen, after what should not have been an emotionally taxing evening turned into just that, I found an apartment that I am going to allow myself to dream about living in.

The funny part about that statement, is that I am not even remotely (on a conscious level) actively looking to move.

I have moved many times in the past few years, I'm rather tired of hauling my junk about, and coincidentally, I have a rather nice home right now.  Along those same lines, one of my current goals is to save up a rather large sum of money this year in order to invest in building a "small house" on wheels so that I can avoid this whole rent scenario altogether and EVENTUALLY travel about the country in my own property.  But, as fate would have it, I stumbled upon a rental property, in *gasp* an apartment complex, no less, that managed to pull at my heart strings.  I was exploring the area where my new job will be via the streets of the internet (YES!  I landed a new job...an ART job!  2D Artist, baby!) when it occurred to me that I could...move closer?  And there it was.  Staring at me.  Perfect leasing terms, good price, good rating, beautiful amenities (including a GREAT gym), and a balcony looking out on a lake.


Sounds too good to be true?

Well, it probably is...in the respect that its apartment style living.  I now have a yard and two stories and a basement...goodbye to all of that (theoretically).  And it would involve moving, which, I must reiterate, I am not thrilled at the thought of.

But, for some reason, my heart is happy simply to imagine the possibility.
So that is what I will do.
It'll be like a bath...for my mental state. 

1:59am.

And that's a wrap!

P.s. The snow tomorrow had better be the bomb-diggety and beautiful beyond belief, or I'm have words with SOMEONE important.