i find myself at times, like this morning, waiting for my life to start. i feel restless and fitful at the idea of sitting still. my minds rushes forward, while my body stays still in the steady moments of day. i begin to criticize myself for missing out on the details–a beautiful sunrise, the intense blue of the sky, the wind running over my outstretched hand–but i don’t care. i can’t stay present.
as my dear Kyle intimated last night, “i fill my days because it makes me feel productive.” in this American landscape, it’s a fight to do otherwise. and so, in this morning of slowness, when i don’t have much on my plate at work and not much of an agenda for the day (until i get home…then things don’t stop), i am struggling to appreciate the slow moments.
as a borderline intro/extrovert, i recognize my need for said slow moments to rejuvenate and reenergize. but that doesn’t mean i have to like them. like a petulent child, i reserve the right to stop my feet and cross my arms across my chest in protest.
that being said, i long for the perspective that life is always in progress. that these times are just as much a vital part of my life as the “high” moments. i have many things to look forward to over the coming months, but i don’t want to lose focus of what i have here now.