This is one of those weeks when so much is going on inside of me that I don’t have anything to say.  Maybe the issue is that what’s happening is going on in the parts of my brain that have no need to organize or systemetize or articulate what they’re up to.  They just are.  They just be.  Or spin or do summersaults or whatever.  And resist getting formed into words.

I wish I could talk about what it’s been like to be out in the early mornings this week, breathing in the dampness and the sunrise and the leaves at every stage of autumn color. 

I wish I could talk about reading the newspaper and feeling the hate and fear and death and dying, rising up from Al-Fallujah, and the hearts of people around the world watching it get destroyed.  About the pain and dissonance all of this raises in me.

I wish I could talk about the people I want to get to know more.  And the discoveries I’m making about myself and the things I’m afraid of. 

I wish I could talk about the wonder I feel at life’s mysteries as I read, and work, and talk, and write, and the impatience I feel in my longing for life to tell me some of its secrets - about interconnectedness, about the fluidity that time and space sometimes have, about the role I might have to play in the way the universe gets made.  I’m so curious to know more.  To understand more.  To feel much more on the inside than I currently feel.

I want to connect with all of you around these things.  I wish I had the words to make that possible.

This entry was posted on Thursday, November 11th, 2004 at 5:21 pm and is filed under Mindfulness. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.