Last Updated On January 1, 2020

 

This one goes out to the dark sister.

 

 

Today was all about mile markers and swollen feet and returning home.

With re-entry, I always start setting up unrealistic expectations for myself and the empty hours in the car exaggerate the situation. I imagine that my values have become completely realigned due to my respite, I have a crystal clarity about ways to structure my life, next march in the mental checklists of to-dos. Its like I’m already cluttering up my refreshed status with a ton of aspirations. And its good, to be crackling energetically, its keeping me awake during the long ride anyway. But I know it won’t last. I will eventually settle into a new (maybe slightly better) equilibrium.

I’ve pretty much given up on defining myself by what I do, but I’m finding it difficult to not define myself by “how much” I do.

Since my little health crisis in the Fall, my capacity has become very limited. I’m not doing the optional stuff I used to do; the readings, the performances, the events, the community service. I’ve become the queen of NO, even though this is all stuff I enjoy doing. For the first time its not about whether I want to, its about whether I can. This is new territory for me, this steep chopping block, but also I am aware of how privileged my status was before. Currently I work and I am a member of my household (and I’m not exactly gold star material) and I write when I can. Thats all I can handle and it feels small. I notice that when I fell back, the tapestry just swallowed my absence. I guess I should feel good that I’m not leaving some gaping tear but I can’t help but question my relevance. Am I diminished, disappearing. Am I headed toward a vanishing point or some new unimagined trajectory.

Omen Wrap Up:
Distance.
Its hard to judge.
There is the impermanent human experience,
And then there is whatever it dredges up from one’s depths.
Both can be managed.

 

Last Updated On January 1, 2020

 

This one goes out to the dark sister.

 

Today was all about mile markers and swollen feet and returning home.

With re-entry, I always start setting up unrealistic expectations for myself and the empty hours in the car exaggerate the situation. I imagine that my values have become completely realigned due to my respite, I have a crystal clarity about ways to structure my life, next march in the mental checklists of to-dos. Its like I’m already cluttering up my refreshed status with a ton of aspirations. And its good, to be crackling energetically, its keeping me awake during the long ride anyway. But I know it won’t last. I will eventually settle into a new (maybe slightly better) equilibrium.

I’ve pretty much given up on defining myself by what I do, but I’m finding it difficult to not define myself by “how much” I do.

Since my little health crisis in the Fall, my capacity has become very limited. I’m not doing the optional stuff I used to do; the readings, the performances, the events, the community service. I’ve become the queen of NO, even though this is all stuff I enjoy doing. For the first time its not about whether I want to, its about whether I can. This is new territory for me, this steep chopping block, but also I am aware of how privileged my status was before. Currently I work and I am a member of my household (and I’m not exactly gold star material) and I write when I can. Thats all I can handle and it feels small. I notice that when I fell back, the tapestry just swallowed my absence. I guess I should feel good that I’m not leaving some gaping tear but I can’t help but question my relevance. Am I diminished, disappearing. Am I headed toward a vanishing point or some new unimagined trajectory.

Omen Wrap Up:
Distance.
Its hard to judge.
There is the impermanent human experience,
And then there is whatever it dredges up from one’s depths.
Both can be managed.

Last Updated On January 1, 2020

This one goes out to the dark sister.

Today was all about mile markers and swollen feet and returning home.

With re-entry, I always start setting up unrealistic expectations for myself and the empty hours in the car exaggerate the situation. I imagine that my values have become completely realigned due to my respite, I have a crystal clarity about ways to structure my life, next march in the mental checklists of to-dos. Its like I’m already cluttering up my refreshed status with a ton of aspirations. And its good, to be crackling energetically, its keeping me awake during the long ride anyway. But I know it won’t last. I will eventually settle into a new (maybe slightly better) equilibrium.

I’ve pretty much given up on defining myself by what I do, but I’m finding it difficult to not define myself by “how much” I do.

Since my little health crisis in the Fall, my capacity has become very limited. I’m not doing the optional stuff I used to do; the readings, the performances, the events, the community service. I’ve become the queen of NO, even though this is all stuff I enjoy doing. For the first time its not about whether I want to, its about whether I can. This is new territory for me, this steep chopping block, but also I am aware of how privileged my status was before. Currently I work and I am a member of my household (and I’m not exactly gold star material) and I write when I can. Thats all I can handle and it feels small. I notice that when I fell back, the tapestry just swallowed my absence. I guess I should feel good that I’m not leaving some gaping tear but I can’t help but question my relevance. Am I diminished, disappearing. Am I headed toward a vanishing point or some new unimagined trajectory.

Omen Wrap Up:
Distance.
Its hard to judge.
There is the impermanent human experience,
And then there is whatever it dredges up from one’s depths.
Both can be managed.