When the ceiling falls in

Things often do not go as planned

I am holed up in my bedroom with my cat while my landlords, who are in their seventies and eighties and are very nice but have no business doing construction, are trying to do some kind of patchwork makeshift fix on the ceiling of my living room, which fell in.

Again.

Last Thanksgiving, on Thanksgiving morning, I was in North Carolina visiting my father and step-mother when I got a text from my cat sitter: “Houston, we have a problem.”

The picture was of all the ceiling tiles above my desk (I use my living room as my home office) crashed down on top of my desk, including on my only functional computer. There had been a big rain, so-called roofers had been working on the roof, and the tiles that fell on my desk were sopping wet.

Great.

When I came home I discovered that my computer was dead. I texted the landlords that the rent would be late since I was freelancing and had no way to make money other than with my one and only computer. They immediately bought me another Chromebook (the only thing I use) and that was nice. But they “fixed” the ceiling in such a way that it is basically a patchwork quilt of tiles. This is what I get for living in a low rent, family owned Victorian split into apartments that has been around for over a century.

A few days ago I was working at my desk when I heard a crash and a few pieces of the ceiling, plus a bunch of dust, fell on me and my computer. I moved immediately and fortunately my landlords were here doing work on the place anyway. They came up to look at it and said they’d come today to attempt a fix.

I just saw the ceiling above the tiles. It looks to me like rotting wood. Between that, the gun violence, the antisemitic graffiti and keffiyeh wearing idiots everywhere, and the drivers who run stop signs without even looking up from their phones, I GOTTA MOVE!

Sometimes the ceiling falls in metaphorically, sometimes literally, sometimes both. When the ceiling falls in, it is often a hint that we should make a change.

I’ve had the ceiling fall in on me metaphorically quite a few times. Lost a job, left a relationship, lost a loved one, etc. Oddly enough, almost every time the ceiling falls in metaphorically, something better emerges in its place. When I’ve lost jobs, I’ve gotten better ones and realized that the job wasn’t a good fit anyway. The only time I could never see a good side was when my friend who I call Marilyn died by suicide. There is no good side to that. There never will be, but I can live each day to its fullest in her memory.

I’m in that limbo state of freelancing and substitute teaching again, but it’s for the best because I have the flexibility to be with my father as he needs me while he makes his journey toward meeting G-d in heaven. I do not have to ask anyone for time off to see my dad or try to focus something that matters way less than family. And everything matters less than family, whether biological or chosen.

The space where the ceiling falls in provides an opportunity, even an excuse, for transition. Often things are not working anyway, like the rotted wood above the drop ceiling that is now visible. Once we see the rot that whatever we put up to hide it may have concealed, we can ask ourselves if it can be fixed, or if it’s time to move. In my case, it’s time to move, as soon as is practical.

Like everyone. I think, I want things to be tied up in a neat little bow and settled. But I’ve noticed over the years that when I think that a solution, like a new job or a pathway such as getting a PhD, offers the chance to have the future signed, sealed and delivered, it is almost always the wrong choice. If it seems too easy, it is.

Dianne Rizetto, a modern Zen teacher, speaks of the “dead spot,” what trapeze artists refer to when the momentum of one swinging bar stops and the trick occurs. It’s when they let go of the bar that has reached its fullest extension before it starts to swing backwards. They fly onto another bar, often performing a twist in midair.

It’s like that.

Meanwhile, it looks like they are putting up new tiles to cover the rotting wood and cardboard that is actually my ceiling. I want to get out to get some new lights to decorate my Ficus tree for Chanukah and Christmas (it’s a JudeoChristian tree - excellent values, lots of lights) but I’ve been stuck here all day. There is no way I’m leaving Loviefluffy kitty alone with all of this going on. She was scared but I cuddled her and now she’s just watching the bedroom door, wondering what the heck is going on. She is fine as long as her mommy is here.

While the landlords put up tiles to cover what is wrong, I plan to do no such thing. As Seal sings in “Prayer for the Dying”:

It’s time to move on.