(no subject)
It's the time of year when I always want to run away and join the circus, well, or maybe not the circus, maybe go and be a gardener, or a zookeeper, or something. I just want something mentally challenging enough, but with little enough responsibility that keeps me outdoors on nice days, and brings some joy.
I am antsy, and work isn't helping. I'm looking forward to Glasto, and to Vancouver, but they are both too far away and too close, and I'm not ready/over ready for both. I get so desperate about the lack of natural daylight in my office that I walk the corridors and lean as far as I can out of the 3 inch gap in the window so I can smell the breeze. I'd like to be paddling in a stream, or swimming in a lake, or maybe walking up a mountain, coming out of the trees onto a summit. I just itch to be outoutout outside.
As soon as I get home, I rush into the garden, and jealously check all of my seedlings. Our flower bed now contains beetroots, sunflowers, sweet peas, morning glory, pansies, lupins, and tomato plants. It's a fairly higgledy piggeldy mix, but just looking at it, and weeding around the tender seedlings seems to calm the bouncing of my heart and lungs, the racing of my pulse.
The irises I planted 4 springs ago look gorgeous, dark purple shading to maroon, and gold centres. I bought them because they share a name with my brother's now-ex girlfriend. I feel a little guilty for how much I love them, but as she never came to my garden and never saw them, I shouldn't associate her too much with them.
Saturday afternoon with beaniedad and family helped burn energy, and somehow calmed me too, helped take me back. I think this rushing energy is one half biology, the effects of early summer warmth on the brain and body; and one half memories, nostalgia all tumbled together. I get visions of volleyball games late in the school year, or revising lying on my front in the garden, on a black leather pouffe, of sitting out in the evening light, of swimming in the river, of not planning anything, just chatting, not rushing onwards. I feel like life is all rush onwards now, with not enough space to appreciate the moment. We are all caught, caught in our calendars, in our distance, in our hunger to be more than we are. Then I know that my interpretation is wrong, we were always planning, some plans more concrete than others, but none felt so serious, so anxious as the plans we make now.
I think I need to breathe, to soothe my rushing senses, to stand under some trees, that's both a serious plan, and one to regenerate my information scorched brain. Anyone want to go swim in the river?
I am antsy, and work isn't helping. I'm looking forward to Glasto, and to Vancouver, but they are both too far away and too close, and I'm not ready/over ready for both. I get so desperate about the lack of natural daylight in my office that I walk the corridors and lean as far as I can out of the 3 inch gap in the window so I can smell the breeze. I'd like to be paddling in a stream, or swimming in a lake, or maybe walking up a mountain, coming out of the trees onto a summit. I just itch to be outoutout outside.
As soon as I get home, I rush into the garden, and jealously check all of my seedlings. Our flower bed now contains beetroots, sunflowers, sweet peas, morning glory, pansies, lupins, and tomato plants. It's a fairly higgledy piggeldy mix, but just looking at it, and weeding around the tender seedlings seems to calm the bouncing of my heart and lungs, the racing of my pulse.
The irises I planted 4 springs ago look gorgeous, dark purple shading to maroon, and gold centres. I bought them because they share a name with my brother's now-ex girlfriend. I feel a little guilty for how much I love them, but as she never came to my garden and never saw them, I shouldn't associate her too much with them.
Saturday afternoon with beaniedad and family helped burn energy, and somehow calmed me too, helped take me back. I think this rushing energy is one half biology, the effects of early summer warmth on the brain and body; and one half memories, nostalgia all tumbled together. I get visions of volleyball games late in the school year, or revising lying on my front in the garden, on a black leather pouffe, of sitting out in the evening light, of swimming in the river, of not planning anything, just chatting, not rushing onwards. I feel like life is all rush onwards now, with not enough space to appreciate the moment. We are all caught, caught in our calendars, in our distance, in our hunger to be more than we are. Then I know that my interpretation is wrong, we were always planning, some plans more concrete than others, but none felt so serious, so anxious as the plans we make now.
I think I need to breathe, to soothe my rushing senses, to stand under some trees, that's both a serious plan, and one to regenerate my information scorched brain. Anyone want to go swim in the river?