The trees are turning, shedding leaves that have gone from green to gold to brown. The sun sets earlier now, and sleeps in a bit in the morning. And so have I.
Full circle round the sun has gone, a year and a day since I posted the opening of this chapter of the story. Today was the first day I have started to sort of feel like I might be settling into a kind of routine: I actually got some reading completed this morning, then spent a chunk of the afternoon on correspondence and running errands. I think I will try to be more structured about this process next week – there is so much I need to get done, not including the parts I am already behind on and need to catch up.
One thing I want to add to my weekly routine is some intentional art time. I think building an hour into the week to make a small thing will be good for my soul. I am a creator at heart – through me things come into being in this world – and in the bustle of obligations I lose touch with that. I am looking for the right moment to start making a chain of prayer beads to use in meditation – I want something I can touch with my fingers when I don’t know where my head is.
I still want to be perfect, to do everything right or at least right enough. I am still afraid, in some deep way, that I will not measure up to the enormity of what I have undertaken, this journey into the unknown that I’ve staked pretty much everything on at this point. I find it hard, still, to explain why I am doing this. I am doing it because I must.
And I am not perfect, not at everything nor even at any one thing. Sometimes I manage. More often I scrape things together and hope that it will slide by unremarked, incomplete and hollow. Not the best that I could do. (It is so hard to shake the voice of the past that exhorts me to always do my very best – as if one could, ever and always, be at peak performance; as though anything less than perfect effort and perfect outcome would be utterly unworthy.) I am wrestling with the terrible ghosts of old systems whose patterns keep bleeding through the shiny new surface I am trying to present.
And so it goes, and so it goes.