i woke up sore. the last few days have been a lot of cleaning and moving heavy things. satisfying work that i wanted to do. it was a good sore. rest was sweet. there are wind chimes. it was a very windy day. annoying. so i took the chimes down.
if there's a problem, you know what the solution is. the problem implies the solution. the question implies the answer.
sometimes you catch an emotion. something hits you just right and makes you feel something you don't like feeling. you don't know how to fix it. and if you don't know the solution, then you truly don't know the problem. so then the problem becomes figuring out what the problem actually is. so you follow that emotion back into yourself, and you get all these flashes of times in the past that built that emotion, that created and fed that idea, until you find the root of it, and you finally stare it in the face.
and what you find there is a hurt child. it's a psychic wound, from long ago, that never really healed. it's some pain you never got hugged for, it's some fear you were made to feel stupid for, it's an answer to questions you felt too small to ask. and you can finally hug yourself, cry with yourself, feel the pain. mourn. try not to miss the opportunity to follow that emotion.
i was outside around sundown, counting the colors in the brilliant light bouncing off the bottom of the clouds. that wind was still there, but my house shielded me enough that i could sit on the stone steps to my door and smoke. spring has come with pride. i couldn't believe the life i saw out there; the depth of the greens, the multitude of tiny flying things, the network of spiderwebs slung across the grass, glistening in the dying light. and i was there, too.