waking up in the soft fuzzy after-glow of summer sleep on a Saturday/Sabbath day. feeling nostalgic for memories of places i’ve been to and some i haven’t. am reminded of childhood playdates with green grass badminton, lightning fast reflexes birdies caught in slow motion then tossed back to the other side.

the illusion of what happened and when seems so strong. it makes its own memories of how it should have been. and now i welcome in the sounds of the outside, they’re not an interruption now, they’re not a nuisance, an annoyance. maybe i’m getting ready to go to the next thing and can stop cocooning myself in sleep and rest, waiting for an answer that might only be able to come in putting myself outside in the thick of things.

i was afraid of this. the illusion i create for myself to convince myself that it’s better this way. it’s easier this way. only makes it harder. don’t want to half live at all. any suggestions?

move more, love more, feel more, hear more, do more. got me moored down. it’s hard to convince myself to give up something so selfish. the daydreams instead of living. does anyone have this experience where you get so caught up in your own imagination it’s actually a traumatic shock to bring yourself back to reality. and the shock is because life can be seemingly so mundane, so boring, but you’re simultaneously afraid to make it exciting? LOL! i struggle with that. i think the answers evade me but in reality i know what i have to do, just difficult to do it. maybe i wasn’t made to do this journey alone, maybe none of us were.