Day Four

It seems I have had my fill. By day four my eyes are open a little before eight, and I lay in bed just listening to the birds and swaying branches and passing cars and lawns being mown in the distance until about nine. I am still not deeply breathing, but my breathe is more open. As I expand within myself, I feel the kinks of stress twinge and respond to the stretch. I have had a quite interesting experience with back pain recently. After some stressful events I began to have terrible shoulder pain, a sort of sharp swelling, that has over the course of two weeks travelled down my back. It seems my life so rarely has such type of stress induced, that my body reacted aggressively to it. Now it's last bits lay mostly in my lower back, and leave only little stiffness in the shoulder blades.

As this week soon comes to end, I have realized a couple of things. I find the term "I" very useful to distinguishing the internal processing of this entity, for the sake of understanding and openly expressing this self. Non dual talk is officially in the garbage. Second, I am a hermit who loves to be alone, separated from the insanity of humanity in most of it's ways. In the last years I made an honest attempt to seek out friends, company, that would hopefully enrich the story unfolding, but that has not been the case. Besides I listen to myself better, alone. Third, I am raising a human being and there is nothing more important to me than that. The reason I can not paint, or draw, or what have you, is because my current focus does not allot the time I need to work, and I do no work fast nor rushed. I do not have time for layers of paint to dry. I do not have time to get a sketch right. Writing seems to be a reasonable outlet. I enjoy it just as much anyway. I have in idleness found my priorities. More than being a gallery artist, I would rather express my creativity through enriching and deeply enjoying my daughter's childhood and diving into the world of self sustainability.

I never liked painting on rectangles anyway..much to in the box feel, constricted to size, and shape. My picture, my vision, just doesn't fit.

Righteous Self Indulgence

I haven't written for a while now, and I can not guarantee that there will something for you to read. I can only follow the moment and use the time allotted. I have a week where the days are free, with no plans or appointments or children and the hubby is around only until the late afternoon. On day 1 I burned the to do list that had just been carefully and meticulously fabricated the day before and slept in until about 11, sadly this was as late as I could manage to keep myself in and out of desired sleep, tossing and turning hoping the sun could turn off so I could rest. It was until I'd given up that hope that I got myself out of bed and hugged a warm cup of coffee served from my wonderful no carafe coffee maker scheduled to keep my coffee warm for four more hours. No rush. I sank pleasurably into the the silence of the house. No phone nearby beeping notifications, the TV and music player off, only the sounds of the air conditioner turning on and off and the scuffling of our guinea pig, Freeduh, accompanied me. Such a wonderful moment is hardly delivered to me now a days. And yet somehow I manage to let a twinge of guilt come through, nudging, urging, to get one thing done. You'd be happy to know I quickly shrugged that pestering thought off. There was just no way I was going to waste my time on guilt, not at least before I guiltlessly selfishly self indulged in the nothingness of the present moment first.

I sit, sip, and dive into the inner world that has been dormant, cast aside, listed as not a priority in my usual day of being. I know it's a priority. I know it's important. But there just isn't enough time. If I selfishly indulge in a cup of coffee and write for an hour, maybe two, I will by the end have become a neglectful mother of a four year old, who will be running around first happily, then idly, then desperately beg for me to join her in embracing the day and get some love and attention. I can't quite swallow that being the case. At night, when she is asleep I will sip on a warm cup of tea I assure myself daily. Right. Is that before or after you spend time with your husband watching yet another movie, or before you crawl into bed half asleep after scratching Maya's back for an hour? Truth is, even when I try to make time, I only seem to add unnecessary stress instead.

So allow me this week of self indulgence, where I am not preoccupied with being a mother or a wife or a community organizer or friend, but just a moody, pensive, deep in existential thought of a being. There will be plenty of time, I am sure, for everything else, eventually.