May is a strange month. Spring is ending, summer is nearing, and the weather is confusing. We’ve had clouds and rain, followed shortly by Saharan heat and sun, and back again. I have the time to relax, but find myself a bit anxious – like coming off a carnival ride and waiting for the world to stop whirling. (If I can wobble over to where the funnel cakes are sold, I’ll be just fine.)
There are dozens of things I want to do, but most of all I’m enjoying quietude and observation. When you’re busy, the ability to quietly observe your world quickly fades. That’s when time seems to fly without account. So I’m taking the time, and holding onto it. At least let it drip-drip instead of gush.
I’ve started journaling again. At first hardly a word came out before tripping over itself. That’s about how disconnected I was from my own feelings. Busyness will do that. But I tried, and tried again, and the words came. It’s remarkable how writing a simple sentence like, ‘I feel hungry,’ puts you in touch with yourself. (Still thinking about that warm, snowy-sugar-dusted funnel cake…)
I’ve also been admiring all the work we’ve done over the last year. A few weeks ago it was too soon, but these days it’s quite nice to pick up a finished piece and feel grateful for having done it. And to smile and melt a bit by its charms.
‘Till next time.