Strange days

A cathartic journey, this illness (never mind life). Strange shifts and insights. Parts of what is emerging is too fluid to grasp fully, while other parts stand out in perfect clarity.

I am needing to spend a lot of time on my own – not always easy to achieve, but solitude is the only thing that feels bearable for any length of time just now.

No wonder people spend so much time trying to pin things down and hold them back. Once you invite change into your life, there is no going back. I am not immune to the anxiety of uncertainty. I feel it keenly. But what is the alternative to change? Stasis is unacceptable. Just another, slower form of death.

All the people who lift my spirits and brighten the world are open to life and the changing tides it brings in their own ways; enthusiastic or humble in the flow of events, whether they bring pleasure or pain. The fearful ones are miserable – those who resist and berate anything that threatens status quo, and always clamour for more.

To feel and see perhaps too much, and even so know that there is nothing to be done other than yielding to the momentum of the process and its inherent pace demands intense focus, paradoxically. Doing is easier than yielding for some of us. But the comfort zone is not necessarily safe, just because it is familiar.

I persist in the eye of a storm that circles so slowly it presents an illusion of normality.

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