The last few days I’ve felt horrible deep inside me. Perhaps it was the late announcement to me that my therapist had actually died - 6 weeks earlier. I was gutted to not be at her memorial. That sense that all is not well in the world gnawing at my soul - bringing on darks nights and quarrelsome days. The point of things feels gone - why do anything? This depressive episode feels old too - like being thwarted in some deep desire - that one is not about the life they know is theirs. And so I’m paying attention to that.

And then the sun rose this morning, and I took time to sit on my daughters bed to watch the moon go down, stroke her soft face and tell her she’s the best daughter ever - even when she’s a teenager, I tell her. There are ways of letting go the rush and the time obsession - the frightful aggression I can summon when the tyrants of time crush in and destroy everything for the sake of one thing - being on time.

This violence brought about by self loathing - borne to outside life: getting breakfast ready coldly, obsessing over the lack of speed of my youngest - all this machination is a choice - to choose beauty or to succumb to the tyranny of getting more things done faster. This list in my mind is what is hurting my soul. Oh for more simplicity - oh for more writing in the sun, rain, moonlight. Oh for the peace that passes all understanding - for the Christ energy that says: come to me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest - for my yoke is easy and my burden light. I got that message from birth - but it was pressed down with solemn obligation to capitalism - so no joy there. The joy comes with stopping, a middle finger to efficiency and the pause that ushers in just a bit of soul reprieve - this day where everything is beautiful.