both, at the same time

Not sure what to write to you about this week. It was much like the one before it. Spent as much time writing the thoughts out the way as I did actually writing my book. There are weeks that pass me by without any thing of notice happening, those are both somehow the best and the worst. 


The approaching of Fall has me breathing a deep sigh of relief. After leaving school, it has become something of my favourite, I love the leaves and I love the cool breeze. The slight chill in the air somehow reminds me that this too shall pass, and it is a relief. 


But the days that pass without incident or intrigue, there is both rest and a loss of sanity contained within them. On one hand, the meadow like existence is peaceful, I sleep better. And on another hand, each day will bleed into the next till I no longer know how long I’ve been here. It’s why the never ending sun of this summer had grown wearisome. The return of the clouds like a balm for my soul. 


Somethings become clearer as I grow older, I am not the most patient person I know. In fact I’d call myself rather impatient. Because waiting has become something of an eternal posture. One I’d very much like to retire.  


I have felt old all my life, yet today, in these recent days, I have felt older still. A settling restlessness. A contradiction, and I can’t be surprised, I am full of them. I am both more at home in my skull, and more itchy to find what I feel I am missing. To finally find this thing, fill this ache, that has taken over all my spare thoughts. 


I find myself writing of grief, both wanting to hide and wanting to ask for help. Another eternal posture of mine. Again, as I get older the less content I become to simply be as I am, I want to be better. I no longer am content to sit in this tension point, I want to pick something and see what consequences will be reaped. 


It is a funny season, meaning odd, this waiting and continuing. Because while I feel stuck in the waiting room of some office I don’t understand, I am truly putting around my own space, making a home of my mind. Both waiting and continuing. Oh the contradictions, they never seem to end inside of me. 


So this place, and this season of being, is odd and full of mountains and valleys. I welcome the joinery, while am calmly excited to see the end of this road. To see what all this struggle has bought me. Because surly, after all this time, I have gone far enough, and come to a new glade. A new resting point to indulge in. 

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