Ah, in writing these pages I'm supposed to let go, not read what I've written, and not let anyone else see them, either. I'm all about breaking rules! Not intentionally. So, because of that, I'm going to keep a low profile until I'm near done with the course. So I changed the name of this blog. I'll be stronger next time.
I can see where it is best to write in the morning. My brain is so not awake at 6:30, therefore my writing might be a little less self-judgmental. Wonder if that might be true? I will have to try it tomorrow.
One thing I've been dealing with is anxiety. While it has been mostly in remission since the beginning of summer, it does linger under the surface, waiting for my life to overfill. I'm paying attention to the breath when I feel twinges, and find that after exercise I feel a whole lot better. I found yesterday that it was hard to get a full breath in--that place you get to when you inhale fully, almost euphoric in feeling--it just wasn't happening. Like there was a block there. I feel that way often, and when that full-breath-ability comes it's like a gift.
What's getting to me? Probably things that are affecting everyone else, to some degree or another. The Stock Market problems, diving economy, banks in shaky positions, less jobs coming in for the self-employed. Take a deep breath. Ah, that one really felt good. And it was one of those deep ones, too.
The cat is up on the washer. Her first time? Everything seems like it happens for the first time with her. Everything is new, including entering the house again, which she does several times a day. She sits on the window ledge, looking into the kitchen with her ears out like "Bucky" in Get Fuzzy. I open the door. She comes in, slowly, sniffs the doorjamb, the porch, the floor just inside the entryway. What does she think is going to happen? Perhaps get eaten by a coyote? Last time I checked, there weren't any coyotes in the house. Apparently there are any number of possibilities I might not have thought about, but go through her fuzzy little head.
Maybe that's me, too. Maybe I jump up on the washer, the same one I've passed by numerous times during my day, and it suddenly looks like something I've never seen before. It becomes a magnet, a thing of curiosity, new territory to be explored. And I can begin to understand why going out the front door, and coming back in to the house might bring up certain uncertainties--what might have changed while I was out? What might have moved into the neighborhood while I was in? Is it safe out there? Is it safe inside? Is it safe to just write, and not think too much about it? What if it sounds stupid? What if it makes me look crazy, naive, overdone? What if someone takes my ideas?
What if--possibly--someone else can relate to what I'm saying? Maybe we're all on this big barge together, and maybe the water is calm, and maybe it's choppy and there is someone behind us...
...ready to reach out a hand to save us if we hit a snag and lurch toward to roiling waves. And maybe we'll be called upon to do the same sometime.
Another deep breath. It feels good. Full. In the background NPR has some experts on taking about Government agreements over the Big Bail-Out. Congress, Republicans, Democrats, Pakistan's border, McCain, Obama; F, needing to make friends at her new High School (first year, and she, a junior), and D a 7th grader at his new school, getting the routine down, despite difficulty with organisation and the new piles of homework heaped upon him; new duties at work, after-school activities, youth group, carpooling, going to the gym, getting some sleep. Breathe deep into the base of the lungs, I tell my class, exhale out through the mouth, expelling all that air. Cleanse the lungs. Clear your mind. Breathe.
That's is for now.
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