Place of Leaves

The act, state, or right of possessing something.

Taking ownership over physical things is relatively straight forward. You own land, you own clothing, you own a car, you own a house. You own anything which is purchased, given, or taken by you. (Taken can be left up to interpretation if involving other parties with alternate perception) Though when it comes to taking ownership of ideas, thoughts, actions – there is a difficulty in maintaining the possession without anything to hold. There is a will that must be reminded and revisited within you, to give space to the thing which you must make your own. And that thing can be defined with words, when the feeling is fleeting and there is no physical symbol to tie it to. A symbol definitely helps, actions can even be associated with the objects themselves, even if the ownership is not about the specific object.

I bring this to my attention because I am attempting to take ownership of my thoughts and feelings. To embrace them without frustration or shame. To drive contentness within myself, in being okay with the present moment and the uncomfortability of purely existing and so allowing myself to exist.

I find myself “rotting” away at times. Sitting all day in the same place. Punishing myself for lack of progress, which in turn prevents any progression itself. That is no way to go about learning to be at ease or at peace, and quite unsustainable to introduce grace.

I have thoughts of disappointment and frustration with myself. For not getting up and doing things I enjoy. For feeling anxious to leave my room. For sitting in panic without reaching for its hand. For inability to make decisions. For feeling overwhelmed and overloaded. Frustrated at being disappointed. Disappointed at being frustrated.

So I’ll try something else. I’ll take ownership over the sitting and the contemplating. I’ll take ownership over confinement with understanding it won’t last forever. And I’ll allow the moment to pass as a page in the chapter, without the desire to reread the page. For I’d like to get through this book, let alone this excruciatingly long chapter that I have been rereading without processing the words or themes. I’ll annotate more and highlight and bookmark and I won’t be afraid to look back. There may be something I missed and that is okay. It’s a lot to keep up with. So I can go back to familiarize myself, with intent to prepare for what is ahead. A book is unreadable if every page is the same. Even a word or two different can signify separation from past and present.

So while this room is a mess and I sit in the hollow place on the couch, I take ownership over sitting here with acceptance. With knowledge that I can get up and I will get up and the smallest step outside is something to be proud of. And the time allocated to reflection and revisiting does not have to approach with feverent anticipation, but with hope that I can move through the trees when the forest comes to my door.