I looked back and saw that it’s only been a little over a year since my last blog post. It’s probably the wildest excuse in the world, but like last time, things have been a blur and I can only surmise that the aliens have taken me yet again. I seem to have lost some weight, so yeah.
The fact is, I’ve been caught up in other parts of life. The parts that are just for me, like this blog, or sleep, or a chocolate bar, tend to get shuffled aside. It’s often necessary, and other times it’s often just wrong. Most of the time there is something I could have done to prevent it. In other matters, well, sometimes you just have to swallow yourself and take care of the needs around you. It’s the right thing to do.
So, wow, to catch up: among the many dramas of the last wearying year I have picked up work writing as a ghost. I can’t help it, I’ve always wanted to say that. “I’m a ghost!” Which means two things: 1- I am making money, and 2- I am less able to do other writing. Fortunately, I have found a little bit of balance and am now trying to do both.
That balance is difficult. It’s not so much that I am standing in the center of a see saw keeping it from swaying down on either side. It’s more like I am juggling and all the balls are actually staying in the air at the moment, while the ones in my hands are still going upwards rather than downwards. There’s a sense of motion, and perhaps a fear that things may change at any minute. Also the determination to recognize the good in what I do rather than focus like an electron microscope on the fact that one ball has a slight deformity to it or that the arc those balls follow does not represent a truly wonderous and beauteous circle.
So much has changed in the world in one year. President Trump is turning things upside down yet again because hey, that’s apparently what presidents do. I take some comfort in the possible fact that some of what he does seems to support me rather than tear me down, and the sense of relief is a very strange and long lost sensation to experience.
The culturally intolerant are turning their flying monkeys loose as well, demanding acceptance and coerced celebration of their choices while trying to grind all other choices into the muck they have left behind after their shout-a-thons.
I became a caregiver to my elderly mother-in-law for a few months while she recovered from an accident. Still absorbing those lessons, though I can say this much: it was a blessing. Maybe it was a blessing I resented sometimes, and maybe I’m still recovering from such a blessing. But something ran deep through the experience for all of us in the family. Many times I found myself reflecting on the Children of Israel in the Old Testament, and learning more and more just how deeply and amazingly human they really were. They probably didn’t know whether to laugh or cry sometimes, just like me.
Finally, I look forward to my blog, a place where I can talk to myself and if people want to drop by and say something constructive, then hey, welcome and come again! I love having a good gab.
Sources of image: http://www.classroomclipart.com