Pull me out

I've decided not to take the November trip. Something no longer feels right about it, and I'm going with my gut on this one. (Actually, when do I NOT go with my gut?) My gut is also telling me some things have changed but I wonder how much of that is anxiety and my self-defense mechanism preparing me for disappointment.

This is just a depressing conversation. Moving on.

I made a lot of progress on one of the 2 bedroom paintings. That made me REALLY happy on Tuesday night, but Wednesday I was flattened by a migraine and had to lie in a dark dark room in a dark dark wood (cute little book) and do nothing.

I just want so much in the way of natural human happiness, neither material possessions nor unrealistic expectations, but waking and sending out all this love not merely through my job, but my relationships and my writing and my painting. I want to give to someone and keep myself awake and alive late late in the night with the natural energy and joy that comes from doing what I love.

There is a poem looming over my head but I cannot channel it just yet. I feel once again, I am like Stravinsky's theory -- that I will neither create nor own it, but be the vehicle through which [the poem] flows. I wonder if I will always feel this distance from the words when they are simultaneously the most intimate thing I know, or if I will keep myself outside peering through the window once they are alive. Oh I miss my mountain friends so much right now I can barely take it. I would so love to step back into the valley of Canaan (oh, the obvious correlations) but that was 9 years ago and it hurts to think of all that has transpired between that week and this. A whole lifetime...in fact, several, and I feel them all crashing down on me this moment, the giving and the loss, the cycle from joy to mourning.

I am sitting in the darkness with the windows open at this late hour, the crickets and cicadas carrying on, the dog's claws scraping the gravel as she wanders, a deer snorting at her from the ridge. I have waited all day for this breeze, and it's carrying me back to bed.

I miss you.
♥e