ready

I stall on a creative project.  Not because I don’t like the project but because the ideas in my head are tangled and I’m too impatient at the moment to bother untangling.  I will need to sit soon and get to the untangling work, watch for the string as it loops through here, winds around there, will need to be patient.  I’m just not quite ready.

I stall on projects around the house, not ready for those either.  The shelves in the dining room which house notebooks, papers, books from homeschooling days are full.  My son no longer uses anything on those shelves, my daughter only a fraction.  It’s time to sort and clear, time to transition these shelves to something other.  I stall because these shelves represent a large chunk of my life, all the years of homeschooling and loving and living.  Changing that wall of shelves will reflect the changes in our family, will shift something in my heart.  Which is good, is fine, is healthy.  But I resist, feel not quite ready.

I wake with a headache each day, and it wears me down.  Maybe it’s the barometric pressure, maybe it’s lingering effects of the Covid booster I got last week.  Maybe it’s the tangled ideas, the growing pains.  Maybe it’s all of that. I don’t worry, just observe.  I drink water, more water, take Tylenol.

The Christmas cookies are gone, there are still some gifted candies.  I love cookies and chocolate but it’s become too much.  I find myself reaching for nonpareils instead of clearing shelves, instead of teasing ideas free.  Like the headaches, I don’t worry, just observe.  I sense the shift coming, feel its movement already, nearly imperceptible but definitely there.  I’m almost ready to not finish the candies.

There are appointments this week which I find annoying.  I think how maybe it’s a luxury to be bothered by appointments with people who help us, people who make sure our car is running well, people who fix our plumbing.  I am a tiny bit ashamed at my annoyance, at my being bothered by time slots in my day claimed by other people helping me.  I thank the people who help me, and mean it, feel gratitude for them and their work.  Still, the annoyance.  I sit with it, know it’s there.

These tangles, transitions, headaches, annoyances.  These are my teachers at present, and I am learning. I am (mostly) always ready to learn more.

Awake, my dear.
Be kind to your sleeping heart.
Take it out into the vast fields of light
and let it breathe.
~ Hafiz ~

sending a little love your way, m

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P.P.S. I’ve got ONE spot left in next week’s online gathering, The Quiet Page. Hop over here if you want it!