Friday, January 7, 2022
My Problem
Last week, I referred to getting some distressing news. Some of you are probably wondering what happened to put me in such a depressed state. Last Friday (yes, on New Year’s Eve), my landlord sent me an email saying he wants me to move out by the end of May 2022.
This came about due to a disagreement we have been having for approximately six months. He and his wife are absolute clean freaks. They came into my apartment this past July to change the batteries in my smoke detectors. They claimed they saw cat hair on the baseboards (Isabella barely sheds); they said they could smell the litter box (I have a self-cleaning litterbox that has no smell to it). So… they decided they would come back in two weeks and do their “annual inspection” (something they have never done with my neighbor below). I scrubbed down my apartment, yet they still found things to complain about: the drip pans on my stove needed replacing; my oven needed cleaning (which had only one spill the size of a quarter); there was a dirty place under the refrigerator (I had never noticed that when I spilled something it had gone under the refrigerator); etc.
Each time they returned to do another inspection, they found one issue after another to nitpick and complain about. They were all minor issues—something I may have overlooked, but I had no way of knowing they were going to go over the place with a fine-tooth comb.
In early December, my landlord came to replace the tiles under the refrigerator claiming the refrigerator was leaking although it had only been a small spill that was easily cleaned up and was not continuously happening. He came in while I was at work. Apparently, he did another close inspection of the entire apartment without me being there, and decided I was unable to keep up with the terms of the lease which states I should maintain a clean and healthy living space. He then waited three weeks to say anything.
My apartment is clean and healthy, but I am not obsessively compulsive about cleaning. I keep the apartment at a level of cleanliness that the average person would not have an issue with. They, on the other hand, want things to look the same as when I moved in which was not sparkling then either. If I had not had a lot of health problems this past year, I might have met their excessive requirements, but I don’t think anything would have satisfied them. I’ve explained about my illnesses, but they don’t seem to care or want to understand. Their solution was, I should hire a maid. How was I ever going to afford that?
I have always paid my rent on time. I am quiet and do my best not to disturb anyone. I am always nice and polite to everyone that lives there including the landlords. I have had a few guests, i.e., hookups, over, but they claim to be LGBTQ+ friendly. However, I feel they are watching me all the time. I honestly don’t know what the issue is. I can’t understand why I am being treated this way. After each of their visits, they kept saying they wanted me to live there for a long time; they wanted me as a resident. Yet, that feels farthest from the truth. They want me gone.
So, since receiving last Friday’s email, I’ve been looking for a new place to live. It is exceedingly difficult in Vermont to find a rental property that allows pets. Also, most require a reference from your last landlord. I have no idea what he is going to say when asked for one. I want to be out of my current apartment—soon. I want to wash my hands of my current landlords. I just hope they are not going to obstruct me getting a new apartment.
I am absolutely horrified and embarrassed I have been treated this way; it has been wearing on me over these past six months. I had thought I would be able to satisfy them, but apparently, that was never going to happen.
There is some good news, though. This Friday, I will be looking at an apartment, and I have another one I want to inquire about. I’m mostly happy in the small town where I live because my museum is here, but I also wouldn’t mind moving to one of the other towns around me. I just hope I can find somewhere that will accept Isabella and doesn’t cost a fortune. π€ *fingers crossed* π€
Thursday, January 6, 2022
Wednesday, January 5, 2022
What Can I Say?
It turns out that there is not much to say today. I’m still in a bit of a funk and a bit depressed, but it’s getting better, I think/hope. Our new curator started. I really like her, so I hope it all works out for her here. Work has been busy getting her settled into her job, but she does seem to be fitting in just fine. Work though keeps my mind off of things that are bothering me, so that’s good. Anyway, like I said, there isn’t much to say today.
Tuesday, January 4, 2022
The Guest House
The Guest House
by Rumi
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
Taken from SELECTED POEMS by Rumi, Translated by Coleman Barks (Penguin Classics, 2004).
Cory Muscara is a former monk and bestselling author of Stop Missing Your Life. He has taught Mindful Leadership at Columbia University, is an instructor of Positive Psychology at the University of Pennsylvania, and for the last ten years has offered mindfulness workshops and retreats around the world. Muscara is the host of the top ranked podcast, Practicing Human, host of the mindfulness app and platform, Mindfulness.com, and author of the bestselling book, Stop Missing Your Life: How to Be Deeply Present in an Un-Present World.
I saw him read this poem on Instagram and his soothing voice seemed to make this poem mean so much more. I think it’s a wonderful poem to start off the new year. His comments after the video are also a great analysis of the poem.
MowlΔnΔ JalΔloddin Balkhi, known in Persia as JalΔl ad-DΔ«n Muhammad BalkhΔ« and in the West as Rumi, was born on September 30, 1207 C. E. in Balkh Province, Afghanistan, on the eastern edge of the Persian Empire. Rumi descended from a long line of Islamic jurists, theologians, and mystics, including his father, who was known by followers of Rumi as "Sultan of the Scholars." When Rumi was still a young man, his father led their family more than 2,000 miles west to avoid the invasion of Genghis Khan's armies. They settled in present-day Turkey, where Rumi lived and wrote most of his life.
As a teenager, Rumi was recognized as a great spirit by the poet and teacher Fariduddin Attar, who gave him a copy of his own Ilahinama (The Book of God). When his father died in 1231, Rumi became head of the madrasah, or spiritual learning community.
Rumi's oldest son, Sultan Velad, managed to save 147 of Rumi's intimate letters, which provide insights about the poet and how he lived. Rumi often involved himself in the lives of his community members, solving disputes and facilitating loans between nobles and students. The letters are described as having lines of poetry scattered throughout.
In 1244, Rumi met Shams Tabriz, who had taken a vow of poverty. Their meeting is considered a central event in Rumi's life, and Rumi believed his real poetry began when he met Shams. They were close friends for about four years. Over the course of that time, Shams was repeatedly driven away by Rumi's jealous disciples, including one of Rumi's sons, Ala al-Din. In December of 1248, Shams again disappeared; it is believed that he was either driven away or killed. Rumi left the madrasah in search of his friend, traveling to Damascus and elsewhere. Eventually, Rumi made peace with his loss, returning to his home.
Rumi's mourning for the loss of his friend led to the outpouring of more than 40,000 lyric verses, including odes, eulogies, quatrains, and other styles of Eastern-Islamic poetry. The resulting collection, Divan-e Shams-e Tabrizi or The Works of Shams Tabriz, is considered one of Rumi's masterpieces and one of the greatest works of Persian literature.
In his introduction to his translation of Rumi's The Shams, Coleman Barks has written: "Rumi is one of the great souls, and one of the great spiritual teachers. He shows us our glory. He wants us to be more alive, to wake up... He wants us to see our beauty, in the mirror and in each other."
For the last twelve years of his life, beginning in 1262, Rumi dictated a single, six-volume poem to his scribe, Husam Chelebi. The resulting masterwork, the Masnavi-ye Ma'navi (Spiritual Verses), consists of sixty-four thousand lines, and is considered Rumi's most personal work of spiritual teaching. Rumi described the Masnavias "the roots of the roots of the roots of the (Islamic) Religion," and the text has come to be regarded by some Sufis as the Persian-language Koran.
In his introduction to an English edition of Spiritual Verses, translator Alan Williams wrote: "Rumi is both a poet and a mystic, but he is a teacher first, trying to communicate what he knows to his audience. Like all good teachers, he trusts that ultimately, when the means to go any further fail him and his voice falls silent, his students will have learnt to understand on their own."
Rumi fell ill and died on December 17, 1273 C. E., in Konya, Turkey. His remains were interred adjacent to his father's, and the YeΕil TΓΌrbe (Green Tomb) was erected above their final resting place. Now the MevlΓ’na museum, the site includes a mosque, dance hall, and dervish living quarters. Thousands of visitors, of all faiths, visit his tomb each month, honoring the poet of legendary spiritual understanding.
Monday, January 3, 2022
Another Year Begins
My year did not end on a particular high note this year. In fact, I got what felt like devastating news. However, I’m going to make the best I can of the situation. It’s not something I want to discuss just yet, but it put me in a funk all weekend. On New Year’s Day, I tried to take my mind off of my troubles.
I cooked a nice traditional (or as traditional as I can make it in Vermont) New Year’s meal: collard greens, black-eyed peas, ham, and turkey and dressing. The turkey and dressing is not exactly tradition nor is the ham in my family traditions, but it’s the best I could do. We usually have sliced fried hog jowls (think salty bacon with a hard rind) instead of ham and chicken and dumplings instead of turkey and dressing, but I made do with what I could get.
After lunch, I took a nice leisurely drive. I needed to get out of my apartment for a bit to get my mind off of some things. I didn’t drive anywhere in particular, but I just wanted to be out and about. I just felt restless, and I really needed to clear my mind.
Yesterday, we had rain, sleet, and snow all day. We got at least a couple of inches, which will make going back to work this morning a pain because I’ll have to clean the snow off my car. I love seeing it snow, but snow removal is something I truly hate. It’s also going to be 9 degrees this morning. Our high is only supposed to be 18 degrees. (Those degrees are in Fahrenheit, by the way.)
The good thing is that our new curator at the museum starts today. I can’t wait. I have been looking forward to her starting since we lost our last curator. I’ll still have more than my usual share of work to do until she gets fully comfortable in her new job, but at least the day has finally come. I also hope that having my mind on work will help me to feel better and finally get 2022 off to a good start.
Sunday, January 2, 2022
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