Friday, December 21, 2012

in the shadows of the house

One year we had a hut way up near the top of a mountain, in the Himalayas. It was the first place we had stayed where each house was designed first for the comfort and ease of the house spirit, and only as a secondary consideration for we humans and our lives. There were half-hallways and windows in unexpected places and doors that opened but only had walls behind them, they didn't lead anywhere. Our house spirit was as old as the mountain, so silent and still that for many weeks I took him to be a rock, or a sculpture. Then, suddenly, one day he looked directly at me as I raced across the house to the kitchen. That look stopped me, anchored me in place. I cannot tell you how long I stood there, silently, staring deeply into his eyes, which were so black they held all of the past, and all of the future.