I think I am trying to see clearly in a fog.
There are just some days that exist where everything I want to do, seems to be happening in slow motion, like I'm waiting for some Thing, some Event that is supposed to take place before I can move from point A to point B.
It could be completely a lack of sleep, too many things scheduled at once, a late board meeting, juggling busy schedules and kids' with just one car, maybe too much time in the car with my spouse and kids, too much time just waiting or simply jetting from place to place. I think I am in a vortex or something, like one of those mist machines and all the mirrors keep making me turn circles because the place I'm going looks just like the place I left.
I think I am trying to give myself permission to meander, to wander into the forest and actually stop and look at the tall trees, touch the leaves, smell the scent, feel the grass underfoot, and truly look up at the sky and see it, the real of it and the place of it.
My life is at a transition, of sorts.
The size of our household has been reduced more and more over the years that I truly do not know how to do something as simple as make dinner for just the ones around the table. My sons had such voracious appetites, I didn't have to worry about owning enough storage containers for the leftovers. I miss the knowing of them being there and their clean plates.
My daughter has a cell phone now, against my wishes. It is weird for me, this new generation. I understand, to a point, my husband's reasons for blessing her with the device on her recent birthday. I am figuring out how to be a mother to this budding girl, the preteen who is still so much a little girl, even as her height continues to shoot up, will she still be my little girl now that she has this bit of freedom?
I am changing, much like the temperature here in St. Louis did a major shift and has me putting on a sweater in the morning and shedding it in the afternoon. I am growing older, like these trees outside my balcony, and yet, still reaching for that new day, that new thing to wake up to, to explore.
This morning I felt as if I just wanted to stay under the covers and not go out into the space of obligations and errands and stuff. I just wanted to feel my thoughts, much like #556, "The Brain, within its Groove" by Emily Dickinson made me think of just letting my brain, my thoughts, flow like the rivers, the waters, and just do what they have to do to create and exist in a new place.
I am sitting here, pondering, and wondering, much like bringing my thoughts back to the reality of the chicken in the oven, the daughter I have to take to guitar lessons, the highways waiting for me to be one of many in traffic to get my husband, the conferences and the homework, and the cooking and cleaning, all ahead of me, waiting for me to embrace their needing to be done. I am rebelling against it, wanting perhaps to stay in this foggy place of not thinking, but thinking, not feeling, but looking up and wondering in the trees, wondering in myself what I am to make of myself as my life continues to transition from one thing to another, from one place to another.
Today feels very strange to me.
.
"
There are just some days that exist where everything I want to do, seems to be happening in slow motion, like I'm waiting for some Thing, some Event that is supposed to take place before I can move from point A to point B.
It could be completely a lack of sleep, too many things scheduled at once, a late board meeting, juggling busy schedules and kids' with just one car, maybe too much time in the car with my spouse and kids, too much time just waiting or simply jetting from place to place. I think I am in a vortex or something, like one of those mist machines and all the mirrors keep making me turn circles because the place I'm going looks just like the place I left.
I think I am trying to give myself permission to meander, to wander into the forest and actually stop and look at the tall trees, touch the leaves, smell the scent, feel the grass underfoot, and truly look up at the sky and see it, the real of it and the place of it.
My life is at a transition, of sorts.
The size of our household has been reduced more and more over the years that I truly do not know how to do something as simple as make dinner for just the ones around the table. My sons had such voracious appetites, I didn't have to worry about owning enough storage containers for the leftovers. I miss the knowing of them being there and their clean plates.
My daughter has a cell phone now, against my wishes. It is weird for me, this new generation. I understand, to a point, my husband's reasons for blessing her with the device on her recent birthday. I am figuring out how to be a mother to this budding girl, the preteen who is still so much a little girl, even as her height continues to shoot up, will she still be my little girl now that she has this bit of freedom?
I am changing, much like the temperature here in St. Louis did a major shift and has me putting on a sweater in the morning and shedding it in the afternoon. I am growing older, like these trees outside my balcony, and yet, still reaching for that new day, that new thing to wake up to, to explore.
This morning I felt as if I just wanted to stay under the covers and not go out into the space of obligations and errands and stuff. I just wanted to feel my thoughts, much like #556, "The Brain, within its Groove" by Emily Dickinson made me think of just letting my brain, my thoughts, flow like the rivers, the waters, and just do what they have to do to create and exist in a new place.
I am sitting here, pondering, and wondering, much like bringing my thoughts back to the reality of the chicken in the oven, the daughter I have to take to guitar lessons, the highways waiting for me to be one of many in traffic to get my husband, the conferences and the homework, and the cooking and cleaning, all ahead of me, waiting for me to embrace their needing to be done. I am rebelling against it, wanting perhaps to stay in this foggy place of not thinking, but thinking, not feeling, but looking up and wondering in the trees, wondering in myself what I am to make of myself as my life continues to transition from one thing to another, from one place to another.
Today feels very strange to me.
.
"
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