I moved .9 miles SSW and 76 feet higher

I took a brief hiatus from publishing and reading other sites to write a review of literature on evictions, wages, and unemployment in San Antonio. At the same time, I moved.

I am on the second floor of a house that was built in 1939, and I am 745 feet above sea level (second floor elevation included). I’ve never lived on a second floor, so this is the highest elevation I’ve lived. It feels like I moved to another side of the planet.

I will write more about this house and this neighborhood. I just wanted to break the silence. If you want to read about where I lived before, you can read it here. Wow I’ve lost weight and gained muscle.

A Few Epiphanies

I thought I packed the most important things into two or three boxes. Since I’ve arrived, I’ve unpacked most of the boxes to find the very few things I actually needed. I thought I knew what my priorities were when I put my material life into boxes, but it became clear to me that I had no idea what my priorities were upon finding that I packed the most needed objects into completely different places. It’s kind of funny.

A move is not an event. It’s a process. Our material objects cause us so much distress, and as an American, I can speak to the issue of material attachment. The last poem I published refers to my stuff while packing.

Our lives will always be greater than what can fit into boxes. For real.

There has never been a word that could fully define you. There has never been a number that could fully count you. There has never been an instrument that could fully measure you. Because humans will never invent a way to measure the significance of your life. And all those immeasurable things about you are what make you more unique than anything that has ever come before and just as important as anything that will ever follow.

You can’t fit that into a box, but I bet you could fit it inside of a soul.

open boxes of stuff — I didn’t find my soul in any of them.

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