Scooby -Doo fills the scene for three tired offspring. Little one is content gazing out window and reading board book in crib, husband is at work and all I have is....well, what I want; unscheduled moments of me. I have brought my notebook out to the deck, fixed myself an iced coffee, lit the candles and breathed in my environment. A cacophony of birds compliment the surround. All is present and ready - but my mind. It is adrift and I wonder why. It is cluttered and giving me a headache. These are moments I yearn for, beg for and take in with incredible advantage and tonight, I am "All dressed up with no where to go."
There is nothing to write and I apologize to those who will soon be getting a copy of this??? What *is* this?
I am spoiled and cynical, but grateful all the same.
My pendulum swings freely from it's weight above; it moves slowly, but with great weight and precision; once arriving and leaving within the same breath. Continuing without effort. Within the exactness of those moments, all is defined and never to be mimicked in style, taste, or condition- with risk of becoming out of sync. I am under.
I often take view from an aeral point; looking down, watching the maze unfold, keeping in time with each swing of the pendulum. Watching in moments, the convergence of time: my time - from past to present to future. Without control, you swing on the wire, grasping and breathing and watching your outstretched fingers melt away.
Some days, gravity plays games and a day, month or year disappears in a single swing of the pendulum. Other times, it pulls with great force and there is no fighting, just questioning of involvement and need.
The ubiquitous pendulum
So, I have found this niche and carved out another etch in history. Nothing significant, nothing short of boring and mundane - just writing a moment away as I swing upon my pendulum
Thanks for listening.
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