Living Deeply In Tiny Rooms

Lonely

 

By  in #MEAction.

 

Here is a question for you:  Is your life small or large?

How do you know?

Is it possible to have a big life in a single, small room?

Or to lead a small life that is lived in many places?

Questions like these have become more pertinent to me lately. They surface when I am ensconced happily in my bed, writing, painting, designing or networking with other artists. They surface also when I am taking the comparatively hazardous journey outside, where the lights, sounds and unfamiliar vistas of the outdoors overwhelm me, sending my brain into a strobing cataclysm of sensory overwhelm.

They surface when I’m somewhere in between, too. When I’m in the living room of the house that I live in, a place I visit so infrequently that it seems like another country, taking a wheelchair ride to the shower or bath. At times like these, I may suddenly think, “My God—my world must seem to others so small—so sad!” But then that question bounces against a bigger and deeper feeling inside: “But my life doesn’t feel small or sad to me. Why is that?”

Perhaps I should explain a little about myself.

 

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