Paint. I wrote a blog way back in the ‘MySpace’ days about ‘painting the walls of the self’ – changing color and all of that other existential bullshit. As much as I try to get away from it – I still fall into the philosophical crap.

Jack moved out so I’m trying to re-do the house. Create this whole therapeutic spin on everything. Her moving out was the last piece of all of the ‘endings’ and so it is that I am now alone. As much as I know it was time for her and I to venture on, she is missed. The echo’s of each room as I walk around are in some ways this rigid cold – in others, a bit of tranquility. Me, myself and I. So I have decided to paint – add colors. My house (the self and the soul) have been neutral for so long….it’s just time. I try to make it this process – this renewal. In the end it’s just tedious bullshit that makes my hands, my fingers, my arms and everything else tired. I don’t want to keep re-doing shit. I just want it to be the way that I want it to be. On all levels.

But alas, tis not the way of the cards that have been dealt.

There is something about coming home each night, painting, putzing, sitting and staring at the walls envisioning. There is something nice about making something your own and getting your hands dirty doing it. There is strength in making the decision to change your life and following through on every level – regardless of the anguish factor. At times there is strength in my solitude.

The irony about all of this is the beauty that seems to stream in, within the darkest of moments.

It would be impossible for me to take the conversations I’ve had over the past few weeks and try to replicate them. They have been these very intense, cathartic, wrenching and at times very simple conversations with people that seem to be crawling out of the woodwork. Faces I have missed – Faces that are a constant familiarity as well. Souls that I love. I see it like this. We have so many soul mates. They come into your life for a reason – certain times, certain circumstances. Sometimes they leave, sometimes they find you and they are always a part of you. Sometimes they are a sporadic presence. Regardless, they are part of your soul, part of the journey and sometimes it feels really fucking good to see their face again and so it has been, in this hellish renovation process of the home and soul that there have been glimpses of light in the most unexpected of moments.

For those that are sharing in these moments, the diatribes, the tears, the neurotic laughter, the evolution and the just 'being'….I am so grateful.

I still can’t see the forest through the trees or whatever the hell that means but within the rumbling I believe a sense of calm has evolved. Light will come. All be it as slowly as the pieces fall into place, they are still falling. Each day as I paint these walls, make things new and different it transcends into my spirit a bit. And so it is, you just keep moving until you stumble back onto the path of the life it is that you were meant to live.

It’s all about the rally.