I don't know if it is the heat, the humidity, summer, or some kind of celestial influence, but I have been dragging lately. I feel like I haven't gotten much done lately - which is bad for me because I thrive on that feeling of accomplishment. I haven't updated my blog in ages (and there's been a lot to say, too!) and I feel I've just barely been able to get myself to Pilates on Tuesdays and Thursdays and run a toothbrush over my teeth at night.
There are days I wish I had more drive. I wish I had that ambition to sell my abilities. But as I grow more and more as a person, I realize that that's not who I am. I still can't say with certainty who I am, but I know what I like. I like to work hard. I like to create. I like to feel special. I like simplicity. I like freedom. I like to be alone.
Dinner's on the stove top. Balin's crying in my ear because Arthur did something mean to him. There's another two loads of laundry to fold. The scraps and squares of two quilts have taken over the office floor. The kitchen counters and dining room table are covered with so much clutter it's hard to cook and eat.
And I find myself overcome with apathy by these things.
This is my frustration: my life has become too much.
I have too much stuff. Any attempts at getting rid of this stuff is met with the entry of more stuff.
I try and quilt to use up my fabric. But somehow there's a lack of time or space or energy or money to finish projects.
I don't care about anything I have because we have so much. I don't take care of the things I do have because...well...I can't find it.
I want to own things I care about. I want to like the things I have and make more time for the things I love. I can't do that if I'm constantly tripping over my junk.
There will be changes. They will start slow, but they will happen.
Blessed be.
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