My recent move has been quite an experience. There are a number of things I’ve lost that I didn’t realize were so valuable to me.
Missing My Bath and Meditation Time
One of the biggest adjustments has been transitioning from taking baths to using a shower, especially with the most annoying showerhead on the planet for someone who is 6 feet 2 inches tall. I miss my Saturday after-work soak and meditation time. This shower just doesn’t cut it! There’s no way to really get comfortable right now. Maybe I’ll find something to do about it, but for now, I’m on a different mission. I need to find my Saturday after-work chill place.
My office isn’t it. My bedroom isn’t it. Damn.
Comparing the Old and New Apartments
- Apartment 206: Big and open kitchen, with the fire alarm near the entryway—maybe 10 feet away.
- Apartment 202: Small kitchen; the bedroom and kitchen have no way to open the windows. The fire alarm is right outside leading into the hallway, not more than 5 feet away. Damn! I swear I’m not burning the house down, but the windows are only in the office. Chill.
Finding Solace on the Rooftop
If there’s one thing I’ve identified on this “upgrade universe” path, it’s to keep looking up for the answer and not always down. I have a rooftop that I can access when the weather is kind.
This beautiful nighttime view is truly awesome to experience. I use these same colors in my “chill” command at home.
This afternoon, I went up to the roof to enjoy chicken and shrimp fried rice using my new Swiss granite skillet. The weather here is very comfortable—the sun is out, and it’s in the low to mid-70s. It’s a different perspective to be able to disconnect high above in the trees, embracing all that is. I meditated for as long as I could until I smelled and saw a yellow jacket buzzing around me. Those things scare me.
An Unsettling Encounter
After about an hour up there, I gathered my things, put my camping chair away in its cover, collected my beer can, bowl, spoon, and towel to head downstairs. As I was about to finish, I glanced down to the street level where Camasonians were walking around enjoying the downtown scenery. My eyes connected with someone who was clearly watching from below. Their gaze was squarely settled onto watching me gather my things.
In a micro-fraction of a moment, my brain exploded with what could only be described as a mental virus zip file. This moment contained the thoughts and experiences that woman had, and where her mind was headed. These were not my thoughts whatsoever. In fact, for the past hour, I had been feeling absolute joy of a different flavor. I was musing over my fear of not being able to decompress and return to my state of joy and bliss after my time in the bathtub with unlimited refills of hot water and a bottle of tequila or wine—whatever I was in the mood for that day. Absolute freedom and joy of doing what I wanted with no shame or fear of tomorrow.
In that moment, I experienced fear, concern, care, worry, attention-seeking <break> wait, what the hell is going on right now? I’m feeling happiness, absolute contentment, freedom, and peaceful joy, and your response is that?!
I felt frustration that, yet again, this connection between my eyes and my neurodivergent brain led me, even in a brief, seemingly meaningless moment between two people who had never met, to experience our first connection as this mental toxic virus.
Processing the Experience
I quickly got myself back to the floor safely, but now I’m journaling this experience to help illustrate the challenge when this kind of crap happens to me. It’s an unsettling feeling as I experience it, digest it, and recompile it to find all the meaning behind why they are the way they are. I hope to potentially find a way to create a firewall against these unwanted zip files.
Soul Under Construction 