The clock said 3:33 and it made me move. Half of something. Too late or too early, I don't know. Too much of everything undone around me, but I knew I wasn't going to get anything done. Not any kind of work. Not at this hour anymore. It's not in me right now.That middle of the night kind of urgency isn't in me now. A passing something. But I got up anyway, told myself I had two hours, three hours to write something, anything, for work I could call done.
But, I didn't. It's the same something I didn't write last week and maybe won't write this week and maybe won't write at all, until I'm eating dog food. Or until I can't afford kibble. Anyway, I can't stomach the smell of dog food, smells like dog food.
Now it's 5:07. My left shoulder's tight. My eye's burn a little at the inside corners and the birds are chirping. But just one. One bird is singing her early morning song and there's a quiet surrounding the notes. Long train whistle blowing hollow, far off to somewhere. A car door and the wind wake of passing traffic.
It's too early to go back to bed, too late to smoke a bowl. Almost daybreak. I'm just sitting here doing the best I can.
The path to abundance. Acceptance. Because slow and erratic, inconsistent, that's just how I am. My head. I'm doing the best I can. It comes and goes. Like it's always come and gone.
Girls are sleep in the bedroom, whole nights through these days. Me, too. Mostly. But now it's 5:15 A.M. That lone bird is calling softer.
Wonder if she's thinking about crawling back into the nest, for just another hour of quiet before the day comes.
Gorgeous.
ReplyDeleteThis echoes in my bones: " It's the same something I didn't write last week and maybe won't write this week and maybe won't write at all..."
Right there with you, sister.
"One bird is singing her early morning song and there's a quiet surrounding the notes. Long train whistle blowing hollow, far off to somewhere. A car door and the wind wake of passing traffic."
ReplyDeleteTeach me how to do this.
God, Holly. It's so close to happening. Just keep on keeping on, and keep sharing the writing. It's your gift and your service....and soon it will float your boat.
ReplyDeleteYeah, I'm working on not working on writing the same thing I didn't write last week and maybe won't write this week. Yeah.
ReplyDeleteAlways beautiful writing.
"Anyway, I can't stomach the smell of dog food, smells like dog food."
ReplyDeleteNow THAT'S looking reality right in the face. THAT'S seeing what IS. Perfection!
Thanks for the smile. I can so absolutely hear you saying these words.
ReplyDeleteHope you found another hour of peace...
My recent bout with sleeplessness is captured beautifully here.
ReplyDeletei don't know if you still write-- or even read here anymore-- i just found your blog -- by looking for a google image to depict my loathing of the number 333 on the clock.
ReplyDeletei see it often. mostly 333 AM.. many times pm.. sometimes its money-- or highway exit numbers. i am plagued by the number 333.
yet i have no idea of its meaning. good, bad, indifferent, psychotic :))
i once bought a scratch off lottery ticket only because it had threes on it--and if you matched three numbers you'd win-- i matched three 30.00s-- and won $30.00's. from then on people told me to stop worrying that it was a bad thing for me and to consider it lucky-- but its hard to feel lucky at 333 a.m. 3 times a week.
don't you agree?
i hope you sleep better these days.. i'd like to see you write more-- it sucks to find a page with good writing that lies dormant.
good luck-- whatever it is you do these days!
:)
soul