06/365

I can tell it's January. Gracious, but I have itchy feet. I'm old enough to know that dissatisfaction comes and goes and that sometimes it's just a matter of riding the wave of impatience and need-for-stimulation, a matter of reminding yourself that life is full and that it is moving forward and there is change and new things and that even if there weren't, it's good as is, my people are good, my home is enough for today, I'm healthier than ever and I have enough work to do that supports everything else. Sometimes dissatisfaction is just a "Scared-of-routine, Grass-is-always-greener, But-I-Want-I-Waaaaant" little voice that needs to be gently taught how to shut the hell up. To content-ify itself with the quotidian and the beauty that lies in it.

Of course sometimes dissatisfaction, particularly of the extended-never-really-goes-away kind, means you really ought to get up off your hiney and go do something about it. I listened to that kind this past fall, still am. But learning the difference between the two sorts of feelings is a necessary part of becoming Old and I know that right now I need to have a chat with that little impatient voice and remind it that a) there is quite enough change on our plate at the moment missy, and b) damn, sister, blessings, count them.

I must go find my chariot and get to the studio. Tis Wednesday ... happy middle day people.
peaceishness,
T.

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City and Colour, Sleeping Sickness. I am not here, in this place that they sing of, thank goodness, but you go, try to find me someone who hasn't felt this way at one time or another, it's isolating but such an everyone feeling, the worry, the fear, the wanting to be saved. Sometimes we just have to hold on tight and in the words of Bruce Cockburn, "kick at the darkness until it bleeds daylight".