If My Friends Were Household Objects

This morning, I was sitting in my reading/interview chair, thinking about who it was that I might like to talk to today on the telephone. I try to have one telephone connection with someone about whom I really care each day during this period of quarantine. I am already basically a hermit and this time of enforced removal from a general population has amplified my solitude. I have realized, only because of this forced separation, that I actually do enjoy contact with people, I simply enjoy it in a somewhat less personalized way, as a member of a number of people who happen to be doing some activity at the same time, like shopping, for instance. I speculate that what I require, by way of human contact, is a kind of basic reassurance that we are all here, all alive, all functioning to some degree. As a person, I am more like a cell in a body. I like it that way. It is very comfortable for me… and that is exactly what’s missing.

So as I sat in my special chair this morning, eating my breakfast, reading the book on astrological matters, I felt the need arise for vocal connection with someone and I asked myself how I was feeling and who that I know would it be the best person to talk with, feeling that way. I determined that I felt just a little sad… not terrifically sad… perhaps melancholy might be a more accurate word… I had been thinking is a little earlier about my sister who had died in November, I had been crying a little… not much, a few tears… and I determined that that feeling was lingering, so who, among my friends, might feel the most comforting… not that I have any intention of talking about my sister with this friend; that’s not really necessary as I’d already processed the feelings I had by crying, remembering her, and actively missing her.

I was in that state that one gets to post-processing… when, perhaps, one wants to just curl up for a while in a cozy blanket on a soft bed until one’s mind returns to a more active and effective place… so, who, among my friends, was that person? It was easy: Marie. Marie is a caring, gentle person whom I have also known since I was about fourteen, so, not only are her emotional characteristics perfect for the kind of energetic blanket I need to be wrapped in, she also knew my sister…. whom I will never have to mentioned in our conversation, having taking care of that for myself. All I need now is the perfect, comfortable person to help reestablish me in today’s world. Marie is my lightweight, cozy quilt.

My friend, Jan, is the person I’ll call when I’ve had just about enough of the remarkable amount of bullshit that is ping-ponging around in the news and online. Jan is a unique and creative thinker. She has a grounded, liberal outlook on the world and a keen grasp of what I’ll call spirituality and energy. Jan will neutrally take in pretty much any information, let it stew for a while, break it down into its components, and then neutrally shoot you back her take on it, whatever it is. Jan is my tennis racket.

Jean is similar to Jan but with a lot more emotion thrown in. She, too, is creative, but, like me, just thinking isn’t enough for her, she needs to create. I might even go so far as to say that she is driven to create things. She is also remarkably intelligent on a scale that I can’t even comprehend. She has a PhD in something like engineering. She can figure some shit out. She can also get carried away on a wave of emotion that she is able to just let go, something I’ve always had trouble doing. She makes me think in different and challenging ways. She makes me question. Jean is my jigsaw puzzle.

Earlier I referred to my “reading/interview chair;” my reading/interview chair was given to me some years ago by my daughter. It is an old and fairly unattractive piece of furniture; it is what I think is called a gliding chair. It doesn’t rock like a rocking chair does, rather, it slides back and forth. It comes with a footstool that also slides back and forth. I like to have my legs elevated in order to be truly relaxed, so for me this is the perfect chair both for talking on the telephone and for reading. It is so damn comfortable that I honestly don’t care what it looks like, its appearance means nothing to me because its functionality is so exquisite.

My husband is a fine, fine looking man with a remarkable body. He has the type of body that I fell in love with as a kid, seeing the statues of Greek athletes in the museum. He is in his 70s and, damn, he still has that body, and he takes care of it every day. In that way, he is nothing like my favorite chair, but in the other way, in his ability to completely relax me, to soothe me, to make me feel about as comfortable as I could possibly be in my own skin, he is my gliding chair.

My soul’s house is furnished with remarkable people… and the roof doesn’t leak. What more could I ask for?




Astrology-Informed Artist; Author of self-help books on healing with Ozark Mt. Publishers; survivor

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V Pendragon

V Pendragon

Astrology-Informed Artist; Author of self-help books on healing with Ozark Mt. Publishers; survivor

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