Oh, I don’t wanna be alone
I wanna find a home
And I wanna share it with you
— Maggie Heath, “Hello My Old Heart”
I’ve been so busy for the last few years that I haven’t had time to hope.
I’ve been busy with a real estate brokerage. I’ve been consumed by trying to figure out how to write and produce a video series about how to escape from our dysfunctional culture. And I’ve been focused on how to slowly renovate my old house and improve my financial condition.
In the meantime, my heart was locked away. I successfully distracted myself — for the most part — from my need for love and family and community.
But then I fell into a hole a few weeks ago. Like Alice falling down a rabbit hole into Wonderland, I found myself in a place — metaphorically speaking — where things didn’t quite make sense. The pieces didn’t fit into a coherent narrative. It’s been more like finding puzzle pieces and not knowing what they might be, but somehow feeling as though they’re meaningful.
It all started in a grocery store.