This house weeps when the rain sets in. Her old frame groans arthritic pain in the chilly wet. She isn’t so good at keeping out the elements any more. The broken roof tiles let moisture seep through the walls. The wallpaper lifts at its seams and the paint hangs in delicate chips. I can feel her desire to give up-if only we’d let her. We keep her alive like a patient on life-support, relatives too stubborn to let her die; she’s a prisoner to her own body.
Even if this house could speak she wouldn’t tell us her secrets. I am a small chapter in her fading life, probably the last. But inside these crumbling walls I feel I am resurrecting forgotten pieces of myself, and discovering new ones as well.
Its a new year, and as the rain clanks down on the terraced tin roofs I sit under the cover and think about how important it is to find the things in life that bring us clarity. Only when we have stillness in ourselves can we shed our old thoughts and behaviours and construct new ones.
I’ve spent the last few days finding tranquillity amongst the waves crashing in on the sandy shore, and on the river spending hours casting lures: meditation. I think I’ve been in denial the past few years about the negativity that clouds my brain. But now that I’ve finally acknowledged in I’m ready to let it go. Let it go by naming everything in positivity and goodness.