Thursday, November 10, 2011

Jacked Up

Not a single picture of the boys is less blurry, these are serious men of action, or...
werewolf and lion of action, as it were.

just sit the hell down and write.

the advice from the ladies at that writing thing a while back.  In the 'ritual' of sitting down to do the daily blog-entry post, I am getting farther and farther from any introspection and it is making me feel all stoppered up.  And so I can't think of catchy or apt post titles and I'm forgetting what my work is and i'm loving that my three year old is playing on his own without a screen flash anywhere nearby at all. 
This is my thing, I like to have it, this writing. but i haven't picked up my journal in what feels like a long time and it actually makes me a bit fearful, like I'm going down some slippery slope and I haven't got my bungy tied on securely.  no rappeling here, just superfly superfall.

bit dreamy really. to fall like that, in that the moments of the fall are much more interesting (sometimes) than the landing. we have all these assumptions about what happens next, pain, change, breaks, etc. I forget all the time about the arms open drift that a fall can be. like the blankspots in our souls, the mysteries in our relationships/friendships, in our children.  Sometimes things line up to enable us to see what we're doing, to identify a pattern, to 'solve' a problem... and other times, we are in a fog, whether we know it or not.
This is one of those times for me, I think I am in a fog, but can't see my way out of it, and just have to wait til it passes.  If I am falling, I don't know it for sure, and am trying to make note of how it smells here, what the light is like ... glory golden sighs?

how does joy feel anyhow? akin to confusion, bewilderment, hope, peaked curiosities? sweetness? sugarush?

just sat the hell down.