Lost

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It’s been awhile since I’ve been here. 18 days feels like a long time. I’m at a loss for words. Each day I had intentions of finding my way back to the keyboard. I’m finding that intentions means beans as each day ends without results. Today without setting any goals and intentions, I’ve finally found myself back to this place. Though it did not get very good reviews on Goodreads, reading a few pages of Julia Cameron’s The Listening Path this morning helped guide me back.Whatever works is good.

It’s ten months since my mother has passed. Ten months feels short and long at the same time. Time is a funny thing. So is life and death. I’m at a loss of many things besides words. How am I to express myself? How am I to find myself back to normal? What a cunundrum. So I am writing for guidance. I am reading Julia Cameron to quiet my brain and to learn to listen. I’ve just discovered that my head is a busy, noisy place. It is full of chaos. I have no order of thoughts. I must quiet myself and sort out the mess. I must find the way back to morning and afternoon meditations, even if it is only 5 minutes.

Looking in All the Wrong/Right Places

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Finally, we have a morning with sunshine and no smoke. Still, I feel no joy though I’m not feeling bad. Is this what is called ‘numb’? Perhaps I should not be scrolling, searching for news, for information but I do. This morning I wanted to know more about Donald Trump and the Epstein files. I should have left things alone and stay in the dark. But on and on I went, reading more about the Donald, Vance and Epstein. It’s no wonder I’m feeling somewhat stun.

I had to remind myself that I am probably still grieving. It’s only 10 months since my mother passed. It feels like forever and unreal. How can someone who’s been here for so long just disappear? You would think I’ve had enough time to prepare for her departure. No, there never seems to be enough time. She was so alive and then she was not. We were all witnesses at her side. She called and waited for me. I remember it well.

I know I must not dawdle in my puddle of loss and grief. I must keep moving. I got my ass out of the chair. I put my moody blues on the shelf. I vacuumed the floor. I head out to the community garden with my hoe and pail. The weeds are weeded and the snowpeas are picked. The library was the next stop to pick up Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way Every Day. Maybe it is just what I need to get through each day. I’m still searching for answers in books. Am I looking in all the wrong places? Time will tell. I will let you know.