Still here? Wow. You were warned.
I'm in kind of a everyone-is-stupid-except-me funk. I want to stay up all night being irresponsible and lazy. Then I want to sleep till I wake up, no alarm. Tomorrow morning (or afternoon) I want to drink coffee in silence, then wander to a hammock, far away from people. ANY people. And I want to lay there. Alone. All day.
I want to gaze at the sky and the leaves on the trees, dozing in and out of consciousness as I simply forget. Forget all the stuff I want to not know, or at least not care about.
Because caring is exhausting.
The Wood Brothers are still singing. My glass is empty. I pushed the not-Cheetos bag far away because the aftertaste caught up to me. Ew.
In the morning, I'll wake with the alarm. I won't want to, but I will. I'll walk outside. It'll still be dark. I'll look up at the stars. I'll feel the cool air on my skin. I'll listen to the birds and the frogs and the crickets. And I'll breathe. I'll breathe deep and slow, and just be out there for a while. A good long while, I hope.
And it'll be enough.
I don't talk much about prayer anymore. That doesn't mean I don't pray, it just means that I don't know how to talk about it. The names for things, the containers they come in - these have gotten awful blurry, lately. But the center is clearer than ever. When I'm quiet, when I'm open - it's so very clear. Even now, it's becoming clearer.
And it's enough.
I don't write here very often, either. This season of life has me so busy walking the walk; the path seems never-ending, and sometimes it's exhausting, but it is rich. My husband, our four children, and my full time job working with special needs students all grow me, daily. I often think of brilliant insights I want to pass on once it all slows down. I have so very much to say.
But by the time I have a chance to sit and write, I'm spent to the point that all you get is Not-Cheetos, a nameless mixed drink, and The Wood Brothers.
For now, that'll have to be enough.