(no subject)
Empty mind. Ready fingers. Flow.
No backspace.
On a farm in a kitchen I didn't design nor decorate. My face warm and tired from the wind and the sun. My hands warm and tired from the earth I buried and dug and combed and broke apart for hours. It's a good life, this growing things thing. I massively enjoy it while I"m doing it - all of the outsideness, all of the dirthandling, all of the sunshine-and-lean-into-the-windness, all of the potential for fooooood. It's like a dream.
At night, a wave of "but wait". I'm alone with it, and there's no finger for me to explore and put onto the spot that the hurt originates from. Taking myself out of a space I loved best. Out of many spaces I didn't love. There's a feeling that it was taken from me, but I did it. I did it.
I want it all. I want the music and the art and the circus and the planting and the wind and the sunshine and the city parks and the fountains and the eagle and the turkeys and the travel and the magic and the friends and the love. I want it all together in one time, in the right now (because that's all there is). All. A little.
The moment I start to delete a post like this is the moment I've gone back to fear.
Funny. How the residue hides in the shadows and dark places. Alone.
No backspace.
On a farm in a kitchen I didn't design nor decorate. My face warm and tired from the wind and the sun. My hands warm and tired from the earth I buried and dug and combed and broke apart for hours. It's a good life, this growing things thing. I massively enjoy it while I"m doing it - all of the outsideness, all of the dirthandling, all of the sunshine-and-lean-into-the-windness, all of the potential for fooooood. It's like a dream.
At night, a wave of "but wait". I'm alone with it, and there's no finger for me to explore and put onto the spot that the hurt originates from. Taking myself out of a space I loved best. Out of many spaces I didn't love. There's a feeling that it was taken from me, but I did it. I did it.
I want it all. I want the music and the art and the circus and the planting and the wind and the sunshine and the city parks and the fountains and the eagle and the turkeys and the travel and the magic and the friends and the love. I want it all together in one time, in the right now (because that's all there is). All. A little.
The moment I start to delete a post like this is the moment I've gone back to fear.
Funny. How the residue hides in the shadows and dark places. Alone.