Home! The Greeks call it Oikos. My home has good bones. Built in the 1800's, it is tired, neglected and in need of attention. We have an affinity for one another I think. I turn the key in the lock and sigh in relief, breathing deeply as time slows again to the pace of life. If I could just spend my time here, sinking into the steady slow heart beat of this place, absorbing its healing energy, I could grow.
I set down my keys, wishing it were so easy to set down my demons, wishing those demons didn't follow me home, following the scent of my car exhaust, feeding on my fears, relishing in my weaknesses.
Again I breathe deeply, taking in the smell of old books, older wood, and last night's fish fry. Thus starts the dilemma. Tomes of knowledge arcane and mundane beckon like a lost child separated by great distance from careless parents. Louder and more persistent the Sony Flat Screen TV calls out and then casts its Gorgon-like gaze to deadly effect upon my enfeebled brain.