I hate that I sit for days welling to the brim of things to say but lack the time to sit down and get them out. By the time I sit down, dissipation has begun and I’m left grasping at my ideas as they drift like dust in the light.
Isn’t that how most things work though? I feel like I spend most of my life reaching. Even when I can grasp a hold, the grip is tenuous and I feel the slip. When I do have a firm hold, I find that only having two hands means that whatever may pass by during the struggle is left to it’s own devices while I am indisposed. Who knows what is lost while the focus is on one level of salvation.
Meanwhile, in the midst of all of this holding tight and letting go, I just watch. There is peace sometimes in just watching your thoughts swim in the vacant space behind eyelids. Eventually, the dust will settle and the entertainment of envisioning shapes against the light will evaporate…. until something stirs it up again.