We went out to the farmers market in the early evening,
our organic farm was not there;
we did not get anything;
went to a restaurant that really was the wrong choice for us.
Loud music, the food was sub-par for what should of been a great meal
given the cost and over-salted. Cab ride home found me telling Mr Husband
pedantically: over salting food is a sign of insecurity in cooking...
I would add also a poor make up for bad-tasting food and a sign of not knowing how
to cook to begin with.... then we went to a bookstore, before getting a cab home,
I found it a bit alienating as I find many places today, filled with things that
are "trendy" but false, empty and sad... the music outside
(some sort of old hip-hop sound) and the colder weather and darkness,
plus reading the beginning of this book at the store reminded me of
a time when I still lived in BC, in the late 1990s, early 2000s and was taking a bus
back to Langley from Surrey and it was later at night, dark and the sense of
internal quiet dissonance, of a jagged sadness and lack of all comfort,
like one was on a long trip lonely and dark without hope of coming into a
place of home where there is a warm comforting light....
I am really fortunate that I have not experienced this that often.
That I do not live where such alienation and darkness is, of coldness,
of lack of help and comfort.
After we got home, I quickly turned on Patrick's lamp, the twinkle lights,
the lamp by the bay window, heated up some milk, added just a hint of sugar
and cocoa and had it in my thick tea cup by the coffee table with my new
beautiful VNA rummage sale Wedgwood sugar bowl with lid
and I saw comforted by the warmth, by the light on the pale window shades
keeping out the night's dark and looked at my icon of St Menas
and read a little of Tolkien and put on both diffusers with lavender and
used a blanket to keep warm, with more layers on...
As I went about the kitchen, heating up milk,
trying to shake feeling of quiet horror of dark, I
thought of how it got cold tonight (first time this year) and
how I cannot imagine being homeless.
Not being able to go to where there is gold quiet light, warmth,
a bed, blankets, love, a phone to call family, books, but esp light,
warmth and the ability to forget the dark, shake off cold's chill
and reaffirm that life holds so much more than that quickly felt
and left (outside) cold darkness.
How does one's soul survive outside at night, in shelters or on the streets,
I shudder thinking of it, it's hard, it must be beyond
numbing in levels of exhaustion....
And so I prayed, lit a candle and heated up milk...
It was a good hour before I began to feel better,
and it was a process of things to get there...
And so I end today with thanksgiving that I am inside my home,
that we did evening prayers, that I had a nice lunch of rice with ground lamb and later
had a slice of bread with all my favourite Dutch things and
that the light here is warm, our house is warm, I have my
St Menas icon that comforts me so much....