At first I thought it was sadness. A sugar hangover, the solo Saturday blues, or the flip side of yesterday’s joy.
Then I thought it was just a lack of coffee. Though my espresso never did quite kick in.
Now I am nestled in bed at 2 in the afternoon, relaxing and listening to podcasts. Staring out the window, watching the movement of clouds.
--
I might enjoy this more if it wasn’t the third day in a row. Thursday I indulged in a 3 hour nap. Friday was walking and chatting with friends.
And now here I am, doing nothing again, waging war with that niggling ‘should’. Forcing myself to write a blog post in bed, because I said, way back when, that I would. Though the world doesn’t seem too concerned.
It’s amazing how much we can shame ourselves for relaxing. The tension between the impulses for creation and surrender can cause so much unnecessary pain. Why lie, most of us feel more worth-while when we’re busy. We feel terrified of ourselves when we’re not.
--
It rained for just a few minutes just now, and something about this felt right. Something matched.
But the sky stopped her weeping so quickly. And the tension between plants and sky became palpable, just as quickly. It’s as if they are stomping and flailing their leaf-laden arms, in a tree tantrum plea for more moisture.
Our bodies are not immune to the pain of the landscape. Our bodies are no different, really.
We’re all anxiously waiting for rain.
RSS Feed