This will be a little tiny bit of a “woo” post – appropriately, I suppose, for the time of year.
I’ve been writing here about my animistic conviction that my house is, in some way, alive. And about how I’ve been trying to understand how it’s feeling and what it needs from me (besides renovations, which, *stares at long and expensive to-do list*). But when I try to think about how the house feels, I usually end up focusing back on myself. I notice a feeling of my own that I’ve been projecting onto the house, and I get useful insight into myself, but not into the building.
The other day I felt something different.
(Read the full post on Substack)