I think this is what they call flow. Either that or I can’t be paid to care about much. When I say care, I don’t mean care. I mean get my panties in a twist. And that just isn’t happening.
Nope, I’m afloat on the Wonder Barge of Life. Somebody up ahead (it might be me but I can’t be bothered to get up and go look just now to see for sure) is poling us gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily. And along the sides of the stream I see the things we slowly pass, but I’m not grabbing for any brass rings these days. It’s okay just sitting here in the sun, floating down this stream.
My days are pinpointed by whatever is on Google Calendar, and most days are pretty full. Not a lot of time for floating, but I’m managing meditational runs and meditational baths. It’s okay that I don’t actually sit in the Zen Room and meditate. I don’t need to answer emails, but mostly I do. The bills are paid. Phone calls are made. Songs are sung. Life flows on.
The walls could be crumbling around me, and for now that would be okay. Let tomorrow take care of itself, right?
If there’s anything I feel I could be missing, it would have to be passion. Is this what life is like on anti-depressants? The top and bottom of the graph are cut off? I remember telling someone long ago about the huge advantages I saw to having big emotional ups and downs. I strove to live my life that way. No, he said, he preferred a straight line across the graph. I wondered how anyone could live that that. Now I know.
Tomorrow I might wake up with my panties in a twist. You never know. The Wonder Barge probably isn’t a permanent fixture, as much as I’m (bemusedly) enjoying this Time In Between. Either way, I’ll enjoy the purple irises on my coffee table.