Last night I fell asleep before ten with an icky migraine. It happens. And while I'm sure it was caused by some combination of rain/pressure system (my usual explanation), lack of food or caffeine (another popular set) of perhaps even a the culmination of my recent list of sad events... I can't help but think this morning, as I wake at 7:30 to cheerily whip up some whole wheat walnut pancakes, that I had just been out of touch with myself. That I was just stuck in this go go go hamster wheel never stopping to stick my fingers in the stuff that really fuels me-- the making.
Stillness, my dear. I look forward to that quiet and slow cup of coffee. No radio, no tv, no music even. Just me and my own brain hanging out together. Maybe I'll write something, maybe I'll cook something, maybe I'll take photos or knit, whatever it is that needs to be done. Whatever is my joy that morning.
How quickly I forget this, inching out a few more minutes of sleep, grabbing food on the go or not at all, getting to where I need to be in zombie fashion. Not quite alive, yet not quite dead.
I'm pretty sure what needs to happen this morning... I've been needing to write for a while now as part of a proposal I'm working on. I find it extremely difficult to plunk down and write simply because something needs to be written, though. Yuck! And how could I possibly find my voice in a messy room, on an empty tummy, with music blaring??
All sounds muted but the soft purrs of my little fuzzy buddies. The room is clean (enough) and the coffee is hot. I rolled out of bed with a fresh vision, so I'm off....