Between NASCAR on Fox and a new audio book, my Sunday should be occupied. But I’d much rather have a stimulating conversation or work on my great American novel. But not many people even wish to say, “hello”, let alone take a moment to read a book. So I have the TV turned down to a low southern droll, while the audio book got uninteresting really fast. So here I am again, writing to no one but myself, out of sheer boredom.
I wish I could appreciate days like this a little better. But after years of self exile, the need for human interaction often rings through. When you live in the vacuum of failing health and a troubled mind. Silence is often a healing thing, but then there are days when you I wish to be among the living. But as I realize a few weeks ago, those wishes still need to be taken in tempered doses.
Life is a series of gives and takes. Where often a balance of the two is all we can ever hope. So I’m learning to pace myself with the situation around me. Not being so stubborn as to not change or to be so flighty as to not flip on a whim. All we can ask of ourselves is to listen and respond to the changing pace of the wind. To realize when change is an improvement or a hindrance to our growth. So always question your motives and never let the grass die under your feet. For life is meant to be lived, and to not become a stagnate pool of goo.