shmupdate

I keep wanting to write,  but there is little to say and even much less time for navel gazing.  I religiously kept a journal from 5th grade until 5 years ago.  I now tell my spouse all the things I used to write for myself.  I suppose he's my living journal now.    It isn't that I don't have time to journal.  The thoughts I would like to jot down happen now in places when I don't have access to writing materials--the shower, taking the dog for a walk, riding the bus.   Maybe this will change.

I FINALLY have a  new idea for a photography series.  It's been years since I've had an idea that I thought I could actually execute.  There is some planning involved (e.g.--there is a book I need to read) and I'm not quite sure if the book is going to give me what I need to write.  I suppose we'll see.  First, the reading.

Started yoga again after a hiatus.  It doesn't feel the same in my living room as it does at the studio.  I need to figure out a way to be able to afford to go just once a week. Yes, I'd prefer 3 times--but I've got to get out of my all/nothing thinking.  Once a week is better than what I have now.  Money is tight, and a 10 class pass would get me 2.5 months if only once a week.  It feels decadent and frivolous.  But maybe I should figure out how to splurge on this one thing that seems so beneficial to me physically, emotionally, spiritually.  When I started practicing, I felt like someone finally threw a a lifeline to me.  Maybe grabbing back on isn't frivolous. Maybe it is is a necessary expense.  Especially in times like these.

Today I am grateful that I can vent my emotions about our current situation and still be forgiven.  I say things that maybe I shouldn't and yet when I don't say them, I feel like I am lying.  Most days, I've got it all together. Honestly. I'm in a good Zen space about all of it and have a deep knowing that everything is going to be ok.  But some days I'm just tired and I feel ripped of and that too many things were taken away from me before I got to actualize them.   I'm mad at him. I'm mad at me. I'm mad at the universe.

Really, I'm just aware that there are doors that are closing or that have been closed.  And I don't like closed doors. Or limited options.  I want all options available all the time with my feet and hands and head touching all of them so I can do whatever in just a moment's notice.  This idea has never actually been true, but I have believed it could be true so I never had to face what actually is.     It has taken me until I was 37 to realize that, uh, I've been drifting since I was 19.  Not that a clear direction would have necessarily manifested, but
you know...it might have helped.  Then again, things might be even more devastating.

I have a secret timeline these days. It isn't so secret because Awesome Husband is aware of it and has signed on.  There is 10.5 months left to see what happens before things are executed.  Part of me hopes that nothing works out so that we must execute it.   Not part. Most of me.  Most of me wants it.   The waiting keeps me excited to see what happens next.

Perhaps that can keep me busy.  Getting Ready for Plan B-Escape Velocity.   It would at least get me focused on something other than mulling about.