Skip to main content

What it really means..

What does it really mean? All of this shiny-sparkly-attractive mess?

What does it mean to have to wake up without an alarm clock? To get up, because you simply couldn't sleep any longer? To lie down only when your eyes can't take it anymore? To talk like a strange person who has a million simultaneous thoughts? To listen, but mostly pretend. To have a million thoughts cross your mind, a million lists on every page of every notebook you ever owned, a million things, and very very little time?

What does it really mean? All this powerful-driven-crazy mess?

What does it mean to know that you are the last word on something? To have people look at you for answers? To not have a back-up, a safety-net, any option? To have all eyes glued, all attention received, all ears in your direction? To hear the applause, but not feel it? To reach a point of so much crazy that even dinner seems like an indulgence? To listen to your own story and not relate to it?

What does it really mean? All this?

To wake up busy, to sleep busy, to eat busy, to think busy, to feel busy?

To wake up happy, to sleep happy. That's what it really means. All this.

Comments

  1. beautiful. you are charged and
    you are in charge !!

    ReplyDelete
  2. E.M. Forster said in Howard's End, "Only connect! Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer." When I read your blog, I was ported back to these lines. It applies to what you are feeling, completely. Except that "prose" in your case is the higher goal of your endeavor. Constantly - in the most literal sense - let your passion stay connected with that higher sense of purpose. I know first hand: you WILL continue to sleep happy, and wake up happy.

    Anonymous-no-longer

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Could I have imagined you?

Every year, I think about you. Not too many times, but consistently, a few times. And each time I am not sure how I should feel. There is a vague sense of loss, a subtle tinge of abandonment, a painful realisation of independence. But mostly, there is just a numb nothingness.   Who were you? I am not even sure I remember your face. Your smile, yes. Your eyes, too. But in pieces, in context. I can't imagine your reaction in a new situation. I can't see you as you may have become. I can only see the frozen moments that I have embalmed in my head.   I wonder if you feel the need to see me. If you imagine what it may feel like to talk to me now. If you wish you had known me all this time. If I am even a real person to you. If you have convinced yourself that I don't exist.   Perhaps it isn't as simple as moving on, as erasing, as avoiding. Maybe it's an intense removal, a complete denial. I don't hate you. I don't love you. It's an absence of anything ta...

Well kept secrets - Part 3

Why am I writing all this? What is the point of saying these things aloud? For many reasons. One, to remember. So I can always go back and re-experience the first joys of motherhood. Second to heal, forgive and forget. For those moments that were traumatic - to be able to let go. Third, to inspire more sharing. Pregnancy and labour came with so much advice and so many stories - from every woman I knew. In contrast, the weeks and days and hours after the baby arrived seemed like an empty vacuum. It's almost as if all this is a well kept secret. (I am not sure if its just me that this was a secret from, but I was caught by surprise by the first few weeks of Rumi.) And so, as I dealt with all my emotions, and physical sensations, I decided to break the silence in my own tiny way. RCH was different from Peace Arch. In many, many ways. Among these was that they didn't allow our 'Doula' to stay with us at night. And in a way we thought it was okay. There was only one couch ...

Brainless heart

Instinctive desire Animal sanity Human need No rationality Taking every risk Making every move And then  Regret Reckless desire Left uncontrolled Effortlessly moving  In opposite directions Pulled together Ripped apart Stupid emotions Brainless heart