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.

YESTERDAY, TODAY AND TOMORROW

Oh, the sun is doing a surprise showing and so am I. I broke the habit and it’s tough getting back. It’s that slippery slope. Well, today is yesterday’s tomorrow. It’s here. I haven’t found all my mojos yet. Do I sound like a broken record?  I feel very much like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, waking up to the same day repeatedly. I’m trapped in my own time loop, living in my head too much. When will I wake up – to a new day?

No point in asking rhetorical questions. I still sound them out to see if there’s any anwers. There are none. I have to create my own reality/magic. I wish and wish with all my might. I fold my arms like Barbara Eden in I Dream of Jeannie. I blink my eyes and nod my head at the same time. Drat! Nothing. Magic happens only in movies or on TV. Maybe I don’t believe enough. I’ve lost that mojo, too – the magic of belief.

I can’t really give it a rest. That’s what I’ve been doing and all my passions have gone down the tube. Now I have to do the hard work of retrieval. How to begin when I’ve lost all my sentiments and naiveties? Somehow, I’ve lost faith and trust in goodness and kindness. I don’t believe we will be ok in the end, that we and the planet will survive. So then, what is the point?

I gave it some thought. There doesn’t have to be a point. The alternative is not acceptable. I still believe in truths. Maybe they are more powerful than magic. Why don’t I start right here, in the now, with what is true?