I've been reflecting on what it is to
take leave
of a place, of a home, of a refuge
of a time in one's life,
of life itself.
Training Two has the story of living
and also of leaving
and I think back a lot to this time last year
when Cimi, the female of my beloved pups-duo,
was still here on Earth
teaching me,
loving me,
keeping fidelity and faith with me
from her blankety-bed always just near me.
I miss her — well I miss them — a lot.
I feel the pups near betimes.
Other times it's too quiet still.
Presence and yet distance
in a dance of time and
laws of life we don't fully understand
while still on this Earth.
How can nearly a year have passed when it all feels
like yesterday?
How can an entire 16 years of our journey together have meandered away
when it all feels
so fresh?
That is the magic of time and of
taking leave.
But as I start my next project, entitled Return Voyage,
I'm confronting even more
leave taking.
What do you take with you
when you're leaving the only home
you've ever really known and loved,
but also what to leave behind,
as you reach for a new life?
We leave times,
we leave places,
we leave things,
we leave hearts,
we leave who we are,
we leave who we've been,
and we choose carefully
what comes with us,
if we're lucky enough to have time to make
those choices.
My great-grandmother took a tea pot with her
on a ship as she sailed by herself at age 12,
from her home in the hills of Wales to here,
our home of four generations.
That was it.
I wonder what I will take
as I leave it?
What would you choose?
take leave
of a place, of a home, of a refuge
of a time in one's life,
of life itself.
Training Two has the story of living
and also of leaving
and I think back a lot to this time last year
when Cimi, the female of my beloved pups-duo,
was still here on Earth
teaching me,
loving me,
keeping fidelity and faith with me
from her blankety-bed always just near me.
I miss her — well I miss them — a lot.
I feel the pups near betimes.
Other times it's too quiet still.
Presence and yet distance
in a dance of time and
laws of life we don't fully understand
while still on this Earth.
How can nearly a year have passed when it all feels
like yesterday?
How can an entire 16 years of our journey together have meandered away
when it all feels
so fresh?
That is the magic of time and of
taking leave.
But as I start my next project, entitled Return Voyage,
I'm confronting even more
leave taking.
What do you take with you
when you're leaving the only home
you've ever really known and loved,
but also what to leave behind,
as you reach for a new life?
We leave times,
we leave places,
we leave things,
we leave hearts,
we leave who we are,
we leave who we've been,
and we choose carefully
what comes with us,
if we're lucky enough to have time to make
those choices.
My great-grandmother took a tea pot with her
on a ship as she sailed by herself at age 12,
from her home in the hills of Wales to here,
our home of four generations.
That was it.
I wonder what I will take
as I leave it?
What would you choose?