Temple Note
Series Name None
Tags Beacons

Transcript Edit

It's funny, the first thing people lost hold of was a sense of place, of ownership. I biked out of Bellevue to find a nice place to watch the city and, when the Beacon's influence faded from my body, die in peace. I found this little nook outside the walls, looks like it used to be a park, some marks where old houses used to be but I could already see the park, leaking beyond its boundaries. When the pain really began to set in - first my stomach, then my joints - I got a real moment of clarity. I've heard about it before, right as the person jumps off the bridge or pulls that trigger, an overwhelming sense that all their problems could be fixed easily. Mine told me this pain is there to remind us to live. Something in the universe was telling me to hold on to it, relish that moment of certainty.

But about our lack of place these days. I bought some lumber from a scrapyard set up against the walls, found some nails at a hardware store in one of the malltowers, and I hiked back out here. Started building a frame, some walls. Wasn't building a house, more of a temple. I'd say church but my family didn't really stress religion growing up. More like a place to meditate, somewhere I could be sure of what the world meant. Been working on it for a few months now. No one's yet come to tell me I need a permit, or this is their land, or it isn't zoned for that. Everything just feels simple again.

When it's done, I think I'll come out here when the city gets too lonely, when I get bored of rubbing elbows with a few million strangers. If any my friends of family ask where I'm going, I'll tell them. They can join me if they want. Stay a few days, hike back when the old-world pain comes back. It doesn't feel like self-harm though, just a reminder. Maybe I'll ask a doctor if this is a suicidal tendency, but it sure seems different.