Zen and the Art of Moving
Back into the Middle Class

The new house starts out pure space.
We imagine living in it this way, empty,
Like monks or motes, needing nothing
But to float on light, to wake from a dream.

The trucks roll in with couches and beds,
Boxes of clothes we forgot we owned,
Too many dressers, four decades of Nat Geo,
Easels, two hand-me-down wheels and a kiln.

We break our backs on the chance
There will be time to paint, throw clay, collage.
(Where to store old paintings without a garage?)
Pans! Spices! Bowls! Books! Zafus! We’re home!

Space fills and fills like a mind. We settle in.
The couch is comfortable. Most of the clothes fit.
Enlightenment comes: we are not monks, but parents.
A teacher. A carpenter. A commute. A mortgage.

2 Responses to “Zen and the Art of Moving
Back into the Middle Class”

  1. eduardo says:

    “Space fills and fills like a mind.” Yes!

    So very incredibly glad for the times I’ve shared with y’all. Now that you’ve moved, I’m wishing I’d taken better advantage when y’all were just a mile away.

    Continued persistent bright blessings. Onward and omward.

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