Ideas on things

I got up at 5:00 am today. In fact I could have gotten up at 4:00 am because I was no longer tired. I must have gone to bed last night at 7:00 pm. It feels good to be rested and also to have time to do the things that get pushed to the side on the mornings that I get up late. Things like moving slowly and taking a leisurely walk with Petita. Doing yoga and meditating without worry about time. I want this to be every morning.

My desk has been set up for about a month now and I haven't done much art at it but I have been doing my homework and writing at it. A stack of books sits at one end of the desk. I don't feel so bad since I've already read a few of them. They are staying put until I can put their exercises to use. These books were bought to help me identify my strengths and particular leaning toward the things that I value and genuinely love. Why is it so slow going? Am I afraid to do this work? To look deeper into myself? To commit to a chosen path for any length of time? Why do I do some things and others just dreadfully loom over me? I get antsy, even just sitting at my desk doing my homework. I need to take a break, create a diversion, get a reward. Food is important to me. I always devote time to preparing meals.

When did my life become so busy? I think it has something to do with getting older because I feel like I'm doing the same things I have done for years, including the same work, but somehow it takes twice as much energy and twice as much time. I find myself wanting to hang out with friends but opting for some down time alone. The thought of entertaining was very overwhelming yesterday. I did not invite Tom's friends to stay for dinner. We have dinner guests on Thursday. The house must be cleaned enough so that it is not embarrassing. The menu must be created. Shopping must get done.

Return to the familiar

Home again. What an exhausting trip both physically and emotionally. All I wanted was a drink each day. It was hard to bear. Back to work today. There is so much that needs to get done both at home and at work. I am grateful to have all of this to come back to. I felt pretty depressed the last few days in PENN. Overwhelmed with hopelessness and disappointment. I have to wonder if that's how my dad felt some of the time.

Time and Again

I don't have much time this morning, which starts me on a tangent about how to make time for everything that needs to get done and everything I want to get done. Where does the energy to do it come from? Sometimes I start the day being very productive and then I poop out. I need to have constant mini goals and mini rewards to move me along. Add relationships to the mix and it can seem entirely overwhelming. How does one balance it all and feel fulfilled at the same time?

I am naturally a morning person and my energy wanes as the night progresses. When I feel driven is when I don't realize that I've worked until midnight.

What drives me to be productive? Fear and a sense of urgency. Sometimes it is passion and the joy of a good adventure. Other times it is just knowing that it is the right thing to do. And still, once in a while it is that deep down feeling of resonance letting me know that I'm following my destiny.

There is so much to do and it is important to learn the boundaries that will keep me sane, nourished, and happy. Perhaps the only way to learn it just doing it.

Reading

I slept well enough. I dosed off while only six pages from finishing Anna Karenina. My stack of "to-read" books is growing. This book took me two months to read. It was worth it, and I'm especially glad to read the final pages, which contain some of the most profound writing. I feel as if I'm only understanding a small percentage of  it, and that makes me sad. Perhaps if I read the book again in ten years I'd understand more or maybe I'd understand it differently. Oh, how books are wonderful in that way. They help to mark and gauge the changes as we remove the veil separating us from our souls. They are a reflection of us but the real master, as Henry Miller wrote, is life itself.

what are we now?

What does it mean to be a family? How does it feel? I'm feeling disconnected. That's okay, I realize. I feel adversarial and hostile...most of the time. Has that become a mood, a way of being in relationship? I don't know why I feel this way. The feeling of disconnect has a snowball effect tumbling down and growing larger each day, eliminating any tenderness, compassion and vulnerability in its path. What do I do in this situation? If my actions cause anger and hurt. Am I simply choosing to be unconscious or do I just not care? My actions and words are sometimes so far from the feelings occurring inside. I am very adept at masking

On dreams

I woke up from a strong and dream. I was in a large multi-storied building that was very old and had two elevators in the center of it. On either side of the building was a grand staircase. My sister hopped into the elevator on the left, which was halfway on the bottom floor and halfway beneath stopped between floors. There was no way I was getting on that thing. I was with someone here but I don't recall who. Then the elevator dropped and I could hear it is the basement with force and begin its ascent. And I went up the left staircase to try to find her.

Each floor we came to was completely immersed in its own era. The windows in this building were immense and let in the most beautiful, soft light. The first level seemed to be mostly antiques, like a storage or holding area. We looked at a book from one of the shelved walls. We met someone here and told her that the rooms on the other side of the building, the right side, had better light. We continued up into a lavish 1920s palace all white and marble and gilt. A black panther moved through the rooms toward us. I knew this would pose a problem. It batted me with its giant paws and I was very, very nervous. I needed to get to the next level. After a few minutes I was able to distract the panther and we went up the right side stairs. There was a holiday level, which was very strange. The next level was a neighborhood. I'd say it was early 1950s working class. Then, it was a forested single lane road with loggers at work. I noticed their tired and dirty faces.

I woke up before I found my sister. She was having a bad day.

Experiencing the "me"

We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are. – Anais Nin

I recently read this quote via Brainpickings.org. You know how one thing leads you to another and then that thing leads you to a thing you were looking for but didn't know it? That is what happened here and what happens to me on a daily basis. I'm grateful for that. I've been thinking in terms of this quote and how I "am" in the experience of being me and how I might incorporate that into my art more consciously. 

A lot of time has been spent thinking about vulnerability and how to allow myself to be vulnerable. Just thinking about it causes such a panic in me and my gut burns. Do I ever allow myself to be vulnerable? I'm no sure. That is terribly sad to me. To be real, present and open with someone who might reject me, hurt me, anything...hmm.

I woke up feeling very low. I couldn't sleep in the early morning hours. I had an insane list of undone items streaming through my head like the Star Wars intro. 

I feel guilty a lot. I don't work hard enough. I don't work on "my" work hard enough. I''m not pushing myself enough. I'm lazy. I'm never going to do anything, be anything. This is another stream of thinking most of which occurs in the wee hours of the morning. 

Why are mornings so hard for me? I love the dim quiet of the morning. The cool crisp air that is inviting and renewing. And yet it is usually filled with panic and anxiety and a stomach full of discontent.

I'm not ashamed to note that I did fix myself a two egg scramble with cheese and avocado and toast with butter and plum jam...and a double espresso latte. I did walk Petita in park around the lake. I did notice and smile at other people. I did feel the wet grass beneath my shoes. I did do a lot. Life could be worse.