The month of September is half over, and I have managed one post thus far. The main reason is that I've been working A LOT. Fatigue does make coherent thought harder, especially when I don't even get home until 7:00 or 8:00pm. Since this is, by my determined choice, a no pressure arena, I didn't push myself to produce here after wrestling with so many demands at work. I needed rest, and I knew the schedule would even out eventually. I was patient with myself and my happy whirlwind.
Once I began having leisure time again, late last week, I found that I had circled back to desire tensioning with reluctance. I'd become shy again, mostly because I'd fallen out of the habit of writing. Decision counts, but habit triumphs. Time to put my velvet gloves back on and rebuild the habit.
I did draft a post last week, but the old doubt kept it unpublished. This is how I lock myself up. I won't continue that either. So here it is, a creaky climb back onto the horse, evidence of mere humanity--the falling down and getting back up that are possible every day. Sharing what might be mediocre is worth it for that one phrase that satisfies me greatly.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
I am very tired tonight, but happy to have gotten home from work in time to throw together a salad dinner, rest a bit, and actually think of being here, composing instead of collapsing.
Work has near consumed my life in the past two weeks--or is it more? But I don't mind. It's a season, a burgeoning spell--moving our culinary program into its permanent home, overseeing the students' production of cookies for the ribbon cutting, shaking a senator's hand, and opening the school bakery softly.
I really thought about just reading tonight, allowing the huge flow to continue as it has been these recent days. Yet somehow, after dinner and a little book time on the deck, it was only 7:00, and the evening stretched long. The usual discontent about mere time-passing or entertainment set in, and here I am to remember and record.
Tonight, I feel happy when I visually remember the organized and stocked shelves in our little bakery. We have a permanent home to set up as we wish, with room to load up 100 pounds of flour and sugar if I want--and I do. The shiny new pans await breaking in; tools are finding their way into efficient homes; and I have an office with a computer and printer of my very own. It's like settling into my second home, which it probably will be.
This morning, I was gleeful about the magnificent sunrise panorama so gorgeous that I had to steal as many glimpses of it as I could without leaving my lane disastrously. The brilliant yellow-orange sun seemed to be lifting a wall of purple-gray clouds, its rays already fanning out above. Just to see it brought me instant natural joy. I briskly fanned that flame of delight for as long as possible.
In between there were hitches and boo-boos and emails and a precious few minutes of quiet at my desk. Also a reprieve on one of my deadlines for the week. And under it all the gratitude that this is my life now.
I seem to be doing a lot of remarking about the difference between the past and now in my life, my thoughts, my feelings. I don't mean to be tedious. This is simply another season--of savoring how far I've come, of higher altitude awareness. It's another flame that will be fanned for as long as it will burn, which could be years. I'm still not taking good love for granted, seven plus years in. Moving from wishing to being may never get old either. At least until I do, I hope.
I'm tired, I'm risking, I'm barely managing my anxiety, but I'm on the whole blissful. I'm inside the picture window display that still bears my nose print and wondering how I got here.
Oh, wait, I remember: a lot of hard work and daring. Life truly does reward action. Eventually. In her own good time. Late season fruit, tinged by frost, is oh so sweet.
My, I'm dreamy and rambly tonight. That's a brain on stress for you. When I can, I'll write about something normal, like kale chips.
What? You don't think that's normal? Just you wait.
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