Aug 15, 2023 04:13
Please brain just let me work. Or sleep. Or take care of myself or relax. Anything but this anxious stuckness. Inside my head, sponsibilities and priorities declare themselves on multiple simultaneous radio stations.
I want to write. I don't want to write. I want to write something else.
Legs sore and summer battered, from roaming and hiking and swimming and clumsiness. Hot all day and night; Summer of interoception. At 3am I strain my eyes on the balcony, pinhole fingers blocking the bright city, for any sign of the meteor shower.
Teaching writing avoiding my inbox, thank you for your patience on me. What lesson is here, in my struggle to focus. The past with its optimism, its slanted memory. Do I care and trust enough,in the beautiful plans of my earlier self. Past me set up entanglements, projects, friendships, threads in the tapestries of others. How in the stuckness, can I ever learn to be accountable and courageous, and to try to do just a bit, and not shut down. I'm sorry that I missed this, and hope you are well and safe. Sending care. Thinking of you, remembering you. Gratefully, sincerly yours. With all my best, with love, with thanks.