The count-up widget reads six more days. I’m in something of a state of suspended animation, brought about by liminal limbic overload. Emotions flare and shift so swiftly that I can be wholly present and not there, simultaneously.
At last night’s round of openings, which I pretty much forced myself to go to, I was fine, engaged in many conversations, avoided painful subjects, all on automatic pilot: switched on and functioning in social mode but essentially numb, no different than if I’d been staring blearily at the TV in a latenight zombie marathon.
Thankfully, though, I’ve been here before. I know this is temporary.
And, I was smart and set myself up with residencies to look forward to before this stage began; the first one commences almost immediately. I need that so: the studio, my work, a clean slate, a community of like minds engaged in the same.
I’ve had one final class already. At its end, the folks in it applauded me out of the room, and then followed me into the hall, applauding till I left the building. At present, the clamped-down part of me thinks, oh, that’s just a sweet little gesture; but another, better part says: that’s everything. I suspect that when the dust settles and I return to myself, it is the single incident I will always remember about this time in my life. Thanks, folks.
Unbelievably, I did not plant these lovely purple plants at the shady side of the house. I was totally unaware that they’d blown in and situated themselves, so evenly spaced, from a single plant I had growing in the backyard last year. They are, I kid you not, “money plants”.