But I don't. I haven't. At least not here.
Instead, I sometimes go to my journal. The one made of paper. And, more times than that, I don't even do that.
Life is strange these days. The hobbit castle has been under construction for nearly a month. Once it's finished, construction will soon move to my studio. I don't know what's worse. The big willow tree in our front yard fell down. It fell on a perfectly breathless morning. It was the heart of our home. A true day off feels like a distant dream. A blur of falling green.
These days, the world feels a bit off kilter. It feels a bit white. And flat. And strange.
I also understand that it's a necessary part of the journey and, if I just allow it to be what it is, I think I'll probably find something really interesting and beautiful on the other side of the current terrain. Heck, I'll probably find that in this current landscape--right here, right now. This, of course, requires a certain amount of presence.
A pause. Or flow. A letting go.
This is just a momentary blip--like the time I drove through the salt flats of Utah for the very first time. It was night. The moon was full. Everything was so surreal and flat and white. There was magic in that discomfort and momentary confusion.
Maybe if I just quit fighting with myself so much...I would find strange magic here, too.