Cameron and I are working ten to twelve hour days again. The effort to step back and watch self while moving through the day takes discipline. So often we keep running our ships on the shoals of the same lessons. The heaving of the hull back into the water so the journey can continue becomes so repetitive and frustrating that the desire to find new seas to explore grows.
When will I get through THIS lesson and on to the next. Chaos. Things not put away. Hastiness. Trying to varnish an image and having the blacks wash thin. Monetary. Struggle to bring down the debt load. It is so tiring to keep revisiting the same issues without apparent resolution.
Wisdom lies, so I am told, in being able to observe yourself as if you were a child learning to walk. How many times do you hit your head on the coffee table before you learn to negotiate past it unbruised? Now that is depressing. One doesn’t take ten years to learn that passage.
I sit here with sticky fingers because the morning began like a slow strike in a bowling alley. The ball of anger hit the pins and I could only watch them wearisomely begin the impact…one thing to another. It ended with my hitting a full glass of lemonade all over my “important papers” and keyboard. A lovely, sweet, sticky beginning to the day.
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Sitting outside trying to calm myself, I allowed myself to feel the difference between sitting at a computer screen which feels like a contraction, an enclosing of energy to the feelings of expansion and openness that come with sitting outside in the summer morning. It is still early enough that the “cute” birds are chirping and not the raw call of the crows or the magpies that punctuate the afternoon. The air is gentle, moving and light without carrying the weight of humidity. So much promise in a summer morning.
And so… like the day. I begin anew.
