Strange time of day to write… midday, heading to late afternoon… I have the dregs of my last cup of coffee cold, near at hand, and highly likely to end up yet another tepid uninteresting sip of brew-past-its-prime as I watch the birds at the feeder, just beyond my window. I mean to be writing… somehow, I am not. (Don’t let this handful of words fool you, I am ‘not there yet’ in some very obvious [to me] way.)

I fuss at small household tasks. I cross them off my list. I admit to ‘cherry-picking’ the tasks in no particular sequence, and I am not certain what drives my choices. I feel distracted, unsettled, and a tad… lost? Not in any complicated or painful way, it’s only that I went from a structured fairly steady routine to something different and as-yet-undeveloped to the leisurely delights of a real vacation – something that has been quite rare in my 3+ decades of fully adult life-time – and now here I sit, once again face-to-face with the ‘something quite different and as-yet-undeveloped’ not-so steady and lacking in routine experience ahead.

There's more to learn with a closer look, or a longer time watching.

There’s often something beyond the obvious.

I watch the birds come flutter to and from the bird feeder; I have, for now, considerably more time to watch them. 🙂 There’s something to be learned from what I observe in their comings and goings… about queuing theory? Decision-making? Cooperation? All of those things – something more, and that I have not yet puzzled out. I only sense it. It could be simply that on some much deeper level I am working through all the questions associated with that human puzzle that keeps us so busy for so long… “What do I want to be when I grow up?”


…Sometimes there’s nothing obvious to fall back on.

What a peculiarly unpredictable journey this thing we call life is… I hear a favorite Puscifer track in an entirely new way today… as a tender regretful anthem to the obsolescent band-aids over bits of chaos and damage, and the broken coping skills that no longer serve me well [at all]… a love song to the sad/not sad moment of recognition when I can easily see that one more piece of baggage can be set aside, unpacked, and let go, sung to the woman in the mirror. There’s more to say about it, I suppose, less ambiguously poetic, and more practical words might be useful… Another day. Do you mind? I need some time to think some things through. And seriously… I’m finding it strangely difficult to write today. 🙂