Ancestral Presence

"My mind is a neighborhood,  

I try not to go into alone."

Anne Lamott

With activities limited, we spend more time by our lovely selves.  It may have seemed unique or inspiring at first, but as the months have slowly passed, time is heavy in our hands.  We have the choice to fill open spaces with creative endeavors or unaccountable time slots of television, eating, sleeping or other addictions.

We have free will and an inner voice attempting to guide us.  We can consider fixing a dessert for a neighbor or unearthing years of Christmas in storage.  Which prompts will grab our attention?  What will we choose?  How will we rate our actions as accountable?

My mind is like a very old city library with aisle after aisle of gathered books.  The lights are usually dim, and comfortable chairs wait patiently wait to hold me.  The tendency to drift back into the old stacks provides me with memories, shifting in importance and  displaying wear.  Words are of a  great comfort to me whether my own or someone else's.  It's all about the tone in my voice and just how warmly I welcome ancestral presence.