As I peruse the last few months of posts on this blog, I'm forced to admit that I've been aimlessly wandering in terms of subject matter. It's possible this aimlessness will continue to be the case as it rather mirrors my life. Jack of many trades, master of nothing.
I'm trying to stay aware of loving the path, trying to keep myself in the present, holding anxieties about the future at bay. This is not an easy task, and multiple times throughout the day I find I have to pull myself back from ruminating thoughts.
I'm reminded a little bit of the artist, Devon Westland, who said he sometimes has to catch his body and bring it back into him. When I am in moments of anxiety, my body is curled, bracing for a blow, and for all intents, not a part of me. I almost have to go and get it to bring it back into the present with me.
Writing is a weird experience for me as carries me through so many emotions. It's also the time that I find myself the most willing to be distracted. I heard a noise. Maybe I should look out to see what it was. My coffee could use a warming up. I think I'll go put it in the microwave. My shoes feel too tight. Perhaps I'll take them off. It's far easier to give in to all of these distractions than to sit and force myself through the emotional minefield of actually putting the words out into the universe.