So, I've been sick. I got this crazy ass cough late Friday night... then I complained that I felt like I was drowning (you know, that feeling you have in your lungs when you accidentally inhale water during a swim adventure, or your drink goes down the wrong pipe.) By Monday's class I was distracted and tired, and the cough turned into a guttural rattle. I decide to stay home (pretty much) and work from bed. I pull back the curtains and gaze outside at the lake every few hours....

I am so good at distracting myself... I find lots to do, and lot to avoid. I really don't understand what and why I avoid half of what I feel. I have barely journaled, afraid of what I might write there... I smile and laugh... but then I feel like I am drowning. The tightness in my chest, according to Louise Hayes, and bronchial problems, are related to being unable to take life in fully. I find that interesting as I have been struggling to do just that... and struggling to be attentive to my own voice.

I decide, late in the day, to drag one of our deck chairs up to the upstairs porch, and sit outside. It is here that I sit, now, contemplating what a struggle it is to be honest with myself. I am afraid that if I state my truth the world will move, and all that I know will be rocked, and changed, and forever different. Change, as grand of a teacher that it is, feels scary when it comes to matters of the heart. And I sit here, watching the sky slowly change from that searing yellow light, to plumes of fire on the tips of leaves, to a darkening sky filled with heavy clouds and cool breezes... and know that finding myself has become a new journey, again.

Labels: art, feelings, self concept