transient stasis

transient stasis © 2015 Jered Dawnne

transient stasis © 2015 Jered Dawnne

I brought this bench to where it now resides: a brute-force effort moving it from a former home to this place. The decision to move it was arbitrary and a spurious: made on my last pass through the house after it had sold. But I had spent some good time sitting on it where it once was. I had conducted some good pondering there, and even a few photographs were taken from upon it, so it came along for the move.

After the move, I also spent a goodly amount of time perched upon it in its new setting, taking counsel both for and against certain decisions that were being made at the time. The place where it sits had an interesting feel during the night, even without all the things that were in my head: part melancholy, part solace, part fear, part hope, and part maundering. Whenever I come to visit it now, it feels simultaneously of stasis and transience to me: simple projections, both, I have no doubt.

It has always struck me as odd, this human propensity to mentally attribute one’s emotions upon a place. The skeptic in me strongly doubts that we can truly imprint portions of ourselves on places, let alone imbue them with our essences, but nonetheless, we create such deep connections, regardless of rational considerations. This place is one such for me.

When I took this photograph yesterday, I was reminded not only of what this place means to me, but what it might also mean to my children. And how those meanings have undoubtedly shifted over time. That thought, of course, led to considering what I thought of this bench in the place where it was, and of the things I had considered while sitting upon it there, and what its former setting must have meant to my children. And then the all of what had come before. It is a remembering thing in a remembering place, and there are very few things which I have managed to forget across the years.

But the transient stasis I perceive within this bench is nothing but what I carry within myself. My home is wherever I am, and my places of security are things which move within me, and which move with me, and which are ultimately mine alone.

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One Comment

  1. Renee Kelly 2015.10.20 at 11:26 #

    And now I have to tell my husband that we are getting a stone bench for our backyard area 😀

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