It was rather cheap. That was a plus. It had generally thirteen pelicans on the roof, sometimes less, sometimes more, depending on their needs and habits. They considered the roofline and the chimney tops their home. I liked that. The foundation was a bit wonky and half the house sat at a bit of an angle. No room for a garden at all with only seawater fore and aft, and barnacled rocks beneath and landward. I rather liked the place. It had character, and the only kind of neighbors I cared for: large-billed birds and slow-moving tidal life. It was cheap enough no insurance was required and neglected enough no inspector dared care.
I made my home in the top two floors as the bottom floor was generally awash during high tides, and yes, it was still a bit moist and drafty as well, but a bit of stuffing in the cracks and crevasses and corners here and there solved most of that, and a thick rug on the deck plus a fix to the fireplaces took care of the rest.
Being a writer I had no real need of people or conveniences, for I prefer pen and paper and I despise society and see it as a determent to living an honest life and one fully exposed to the real world. People are so egocentric and society so anthropocentric, everything is about them. They have even anthropomorphized God in their own image. Ah, but the world is full of stars! And seas! And life and light! Life is not just that which respires in and out, no! Just as light is not just the few wavelengths which we perceive! Light is everywhere. The universe is not dark. It is filled with light. Light is everywhere. It is how broadly you can see to define it. Life is universal. You shouldn’t define it by your own limits. Its not just about you.
And “Man’s” obsession with God? Their desire to find approval for themselves? No, God is not about you and your obsession with yourself, what you wish to call your salvation. God, if that is what you must label it, is so much more than that. You must see more broadly, beyond your own limits, to define that which is universal. You see, our perception of the world comes in its separateness, its pieces, but it is its connectedness which is its reality, not its pieces.
Ah, but I wander off on the beaten path of philosophy! Now its time to return to the here and now. I have lived in this house for two years now and weathered many a storm. One bangs at my footings and dashes at my door as I write. And a good one it is! The night is long and all the resident pelicans have abandoned me early on. The house groans a bit, rather much really, and the lower floor is awash as never before. It is a glorious feeling really, to be so alive, and a part of this tempest and hear the bones of this house complain and threaten to give way. One does love to be in the midst of something important whether it be battle or birth. A peak experience as they say. Man built this glorious old house and it shall surely fail be it tonight or on some tomorrow, but nature built the rocks below it and the mountains of the earth and they shall surely fail as well, just over a longer period of time. But their failure is their success as well, for they have done their purpose, fulfilled their mission, and lived its meaning! I as well, whether it be in this storm or some other, my coming failure will fulfill my intended meaning and I shall be awash in another purpose of no less importance. Just as the raging storm at my door is dynamic, so is existence.