Time away seems to bring into focus what was a blur. I
become completely caught up in the hustle, bustle, and minutia of work and
life. Those concerns need attention and are each important; however, they don’t
require loss of breath and anxiousness which is just how I react when I take
myself much too seriously. Time spent feeling in a rivers flow washes away the
crap that I carry.
Friday I was late arriving for a planned trip on the
Hiawassee River because I did not pay attention to where I was driving and
missed a turn. My mind was on work thinking of “things done and left undone.” I
had a wad of the bread of anxiety stuck in my throat. My hand was shaking when
I signed the waver form, my signature illegible. Finally hurling my boat in the
river and paddling frantically, it was really no surprise—although I was—that I
swam forcing my way through an area requiring finesse and patients. And the evening did not go any better because,
tired from battle with the river, I could not control a minor situation.
Cussing and fighting I finally made it to a quite place and made plans for the
following Saturday on the river.
The Saturday trip started on a peacefully and, as trite as
it seems, I was centered, not forcing like than the day before. I had a great
run and stayed in my boat—I was able to breathe.
By Sunday, I was relaxed and on a roll—another great dry
trip on the river. I let all the crap I could turn loose of go continue
downstream of the take-out.
I really come unhinged an end up with a wheel in the ditch
form time to time—see yesterday’s rant. Okay, I should not minimize my
emotions, even when they are self-centered and narcissistic. I only pray that I
pull my head out in short order and not permanently cloud what little bit of
vision that God provides. Perhaps it’s just because today is the last workday
of a short week or because I had a long swim yesterday, but who cares—whatever
works. I am able to move, the paralysis has lifted.
I had just a few glimpses of the Mystery this morning.
First, the flowers and plants were standing strong and tall in the cool
morning. They are like that every morning, however, I don’t always notice.
Tuesday evening all I noticed is how stressed they looked at the end of a hot
Second, Roscoe was strutting around his backyard, kicking up
dust after marking his territory. He too was feeling good in the cool, muted
light of morning.
Finally, the sunrise shining through the trees made it look
as if there was a fire just beyond. Turning east while driving the sun rising
through clouds made me smile and captured my attention, so much so, that I
twice came close to rear-ending the car I was following.
I get the message: breathe, pull my head out, and touch the
Mystery all around.
I find myself at low ebb—confused, waning energy, forgetful,
and just out of sorts. I am getting away from all that feeds and motivates,
such as exercise, yoga, and most of all writing. All I seem to do is think of
and read about other’s writing successes. And I realize that I am anything but
successful. Right or wrong, I have to write. Success does not come by simply
having a desire to write—words must make their way to paper or digital code.
I am living Mike’s dilemma. He cannot pay attention and is disgusted
with the greed and incompetence. We draw on personal experience to write
fiction. Mike is drawn in and down out of his fear and greed. He is paralyzed
to act out of fear for his job. He has tried the entrepreneurial route and failed.
His job sucks his life and energy. He drags home at the end of each day unable
to lift a pen or keyboard, creating frustration and conflict. He wakes each
morning already tired after restless nights plagued by the knowledge he must
write and publish to survive as a writer and not having the energy and courage
to do so.