It’s a grey, cool day again, soft and slow.

carlisles roses

This month has been all about patience. I’ve been waiting for my left hand to start working again (almost, I am so grateful) and I’ve run out of the ocean of extra energy I almost always have.

This happens from time to time and almost always through carelessness on my part; I get carried away with the work and fail to save enough life force to start again from nothing, or I stay in one place for too long, or my focus narrows, or I am set aside, either by circumstance or a failure of love or behavior.

As my life has no structure, if I accidentally stop moving, everything stops around me except the machines of life. The plants grow, the cats prowl, the lizards bask, the bills come on time, but the living world of my deeper mind comes to a halt like a carousel without electricity; a layer of cosmic dust forms.

Applying what I know about being me/human, I am heading straight for Bill and the boys. It’s spring in the Midwest now, and we can all tunnel into it together, and Bill can love me until I’m all powered up again, and ready to lock again into a bigger bandwidth.  Patience.