safe at home

I am presently getting a bit of grief at home and at work about my impending departure for Nepal. I will, as part of this departure, be leaving things undone and responsibilities unfulfilled professionally and personally. I know that this is the price to be paid for leaving. I am surprisingly comfortable with this, it is what it is. I will be elsewhere, not present. This is because I am ready.

I am pretty bored with training, though I persist. I have tailed off the running and am focusing on the Stairmaster and lots of leg work with body weight, endless squats, lunges, step ups etc. I am way over the early morning hike to the gym and the tedious thump, thump of the gym sound system. I am pretty fit now; way fit enough to walk for a long, long time.

I have not often given the Rustichellos a chance to miss me, but that has had the cost of not offering them the chance to see me extend myself, to do something really new and make the dream real. They’ll need to know that these things are possible too, for me and for themselves. Dr Sternlove will carry a load and it is not to be sneezed at. It is a gift and something I’m proud the smaller Rustichellos will see. From seeing it they’ll know that giving gifts like this, on this scale is not a quid pro quo but a product of the space within intimacy that nourishes us as long as we nourish it.

One of the oddest aspects of all the planning is the presents. Christmas, though months away for everyone else is really only eight here-in-town days away for me. So I’ve done my Christmas shopping. The smaller Rustichellos will tell you with a smirk that I would have done it in November anyway because I’m a to-do-list-task-ticker kind of guy and I hate shopping and it is much worse in December. They’re right but throughout this entire period of being ready, waiting to go I’ve been thinking: it’s OK I’ll be leaving my presence presents.

 The pile of gifts under my bedside table is a kind of sovereign double, a pile of presence. When they look at the pile, when they caress the packages and examine the labels they’ll imagine me handing them over and the paper coming off. They’ll feel me there, even when I’m elsewhere, all of them.

The dreamer is always safe at home.

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About rustichello

A rather too quiet fellow of little reknown.
This entry was posted in domesticity, things belonging to the emperor and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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