Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Things end and things begin. It’s strange how certain things make me feel safe but at the same time limit me. I watch my housemate preparing for her wedding and am simply shocked she has the time. I went to see a movie last week on a weekday and was shocked at the time it took to recover the lost hours.

I’ve always battled with Martha-ness and finding my significance in activities, but that’s not really the bigger problem---I like activity, action, being on the go and having worthwhile things to do.

But then I burn out. I have no time for the important because the urgent start crowding in.

I even miss my god.

And I start to say no. And I feel a little lost for a while. And I have to resist adding something to fill the now-empty hour.

And then it starts to feel good. I get caught up on things. I have more energy and patience.

But there’s still a part of me that thinks I should be doing more with these few hours I have on earth.

Every nine moths I live a year in nine months. When I’m on with the job, I’m on and God help me if I lose focus for two minutes in front of a bunch of high schoolers.

Every summer I feel the days stretch out like velvet in sunshine and remember I don’t have to choose to live at that pace.

But I do. I’m an addict going back for the high. A thrill-seeker looking for the next rush. I’d be bored out of my skull in most jobs.

Friends did something kind last week. They helped and allowed me to bow out of more responsibility that I can handle. They helped me move toward the door and wonder what’s next. It wasn’t real until I saw it in print today.

There’s still so much. Dropping this one thing will not lessen my work or my commitments drastically, but it’s a step.

Maybe I’ll finally manage to take that pottery course this summer.


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