Oh goodness how I’ve missed writing. I’d love to spend a portion of every day gathering words and trying out various combinations to see how I might best express some feeling or experience. Very often I find that in the writing of something I’m better able to make sense of and feel appreciation for it – all this living business . . . and all this thinking business. But, as it is, I am only able to choose a small smattering of unnecessary activities (partially due to the busyness of life . . . and partially due to my own accidental wasting of time that could be put to better use) and so I tend to rotate the activities that I give that extra time to. Unfortunately, when I’ve spent too much time away from writing and recording, I find myself confronting such a mental room-full of unorganized material that I can hardly make heads or tails of it -- can hardly combine it in any meaningful way. I can’t sift or organize it all properly into keep and throw away piles and so I just . . . nervously open the door to the whole room . . . unsure if we will see the important bits or just the clutter.
It’s nearly Halloween. Halloween seems to have somehow become the mark in the year when, and always with surprise, I realize that we are really into the routines and normalcy of our school year. Somehow we’ve found our new normal without ever even knowing how it happened exactly.
I worry so much about figuring everything out, doing everything I need to do, and raising these kids right. And yet . . . it just goes on happening the tiniest bit each day. And I am always looking back in slight wonder over how it all happened despite me and my frettings. There are some regrets of course – missing things gone by, not having done my best with or appreciated fully certain other things. But, for the most part, it seems that most things turn out just fine, my measly efforts have been enough (or magnified beyond their own small level) and my worrying was unnecessary.