The Long Wind

fork_in_the_road
Fork in the Road… Bahahahaha!

It is Tuesday morning.

Another storm is gracing us with high winds and rain. The winds are particularly fearsome. As I write this, the house creeks and groans against the onslaught. This morning, someone woke to a tree coming through their living room. The nature of where we live, unfortunately.

I spent most of the night awake staring at the ceiling. My son came in and curled up in our bed at some undetermined point, so as I stared, I listened to the small whine of sound he made with each breath. We all have stuffed noses right now; mine is obnoxious, his is somehow sweet.

I thought about this decision I have made. I thought about going to the library and checking out books on real estate; to supplement and add to the knowledge of this 90 hour training that I started yesterday.

Sadness crept in as I thought about those real estate books stacking up on my bedside table. Before there was Jung, Lacan, and whatever weird book I was reading (Stiff, was the last one). Now. Real estate books.

Am I mourning?

I told myself I would carve out time for the intellectual, for my thought experiments, but my 1 a.m. brain was having none of that; at 1 a.m. the world is coming to an end, didn’t you know?

I will though, because despite the need to do something different, I am still a “big-headed owl” that thrives on the labyrinth that is thought. I will make time.

Oh, and did I mention that after making the decision and taking the first (irreversible) step, my voice left?

Unable to speak. Unable to communicate.

My yoga teacher would have some thoughts on that one… good thing I am not telling her.

A rambling for this morning. A touchstone blog.

Recenter, my lovely readers. Take a breath and a piece of freshness.

And remember, as I am trying to, that all things are for a reason.

Cheers, lovelies!

 

Storms

Storms
Storms

It is very early in the morning. My husband is away for business and my son is asleep. The dog snores as he lays in the bed in front of me.

I was plagued by bad dreams all night. Silly, stupid dreams having to do with silly stupid things like my husband having affairs or my best friend deciding we were no longer friends after 18 years.

Silly things.

But they have shaken my mood this morning. I am sure it has something to with the rejection yesterday. Or maybe it has to do with the storm raging outside.

For those who have never bee to the Pacific Northwest, the trees are plentiful and tall. They surround everything and all things. A constant, just as the water is in all of its abundance. In storms, those same tall and massive trees sway in the wind. Gusts of 45 mph plus, pushing and pulling at their rain-heavy branches.

I would like to say that storms do not bother me up here. Storms that bother me are the green skies of Texas; when you look out over the flat landscape and you see the sickly-tinged sky coming ever closer. The smash of thunder so loud it shakes the dishes in the cupboards. The wind that seems to concentrate before pulling and uprooting all in its path.

Those are the scary storm. The kind that requires hiding in closets with blankets or in cellars if you have one.

The storms here, they are different. Not violent like that; not a punch in the face, but rather a pressure, a moving pressure in one’s body as it flows its way through the area.

I am not scared, necessarily, but I am more effected than I used to be… a responsibility of life, I think. The knowledge that storms not only push and pull and destroy me, but those I love as well.

I must be careful of storms, as must we all. They can do so much damage, and yet there is nothing that can truly be done. Only so much preparedness is allowed. Only so much control.

Placing one’s trust in something bigger and not in the least understandable.

Storms.