January: What If You’re Too Tired to Begin?

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Artist: Flora McLachlan

Starting right were you are is often a great place to begin. How else to move forward? What would arise if you invited your weariness to speak?

For full details on this prompt, visit: https://writingandhealing.atavist.com/months-1-2#chapter-752892

So often I find myself wanting to be somewhere else. Feeling something else other than what and where I am. What a guarantee for suffering. To want things to be other than they are. Even now, as the sun shines after days of rain, I am repelled by it, wanting the clouds and rain to be here instead. I’m not ready for sun and the emotions it implies.

For months I have been feeling varying levels of low, and I feel fortunate to be able to pin-point why. Several reasons, layered upon others, and of course, I would end up feeling this way. The inertia is both comforting and frustrating. The “shoulds” appear physically and cognitively. I should go out more. I should be more active. I should…should…should… All this does is birth regret and physical pain.

What I have is a constant desire to nest. To curl in a ball on top of soft pillows, covered in soft blankets, and sleep. In a clean space free of dust, dirt, and clutter. Clean air that is not too cold, nor too warm. Instead, I claim the couch as my safe place to shut the world out.

Today, like most days, my head feels congested and weighted. My body is heavy and tired. Its aches and pains seem premature, which worries me. I feel like an echo of my father this time last year. Is this my way to being in relationship with him? Communing with him? Or just what happens when what you knew, and hoped for, is chipped away? Like most things it’s probably all of the above.

Since nesting is the preparation for new life, I can say I have been here before. But if I pull that thread I’m off into thinking of what the new life is,  rather than being in the now. I suppose hope has it’s purpose. To hold on and stay adrift in the mystery of what is to become. So I come back to now, and allow what is.

This is the place where I write from this morning. Exactly as it is.

 

 

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