Rumplestiltskin vs. Dragonflies - Just Recharge
|Taking a selfie with Frank Zappa|
I totally get that. Since moving to Annandale, since divorcing, that's pretty much what I've been doing. It's more difficult than I thought, recharging, but I'm getting the hang of it. There are still bouts of anger and frustration over time wasted, and mourning over that which was lost and will probably be unrecoverable. I'm sure you know this one.
Fresh starts aren't really fresh, and they aren't really starts, either - more like picking up a knitting project and trying to remember where you wanted to go with it. Remembering how to knit, even. Deciding that some of those dropped stitches can just stay dropped and unravel later, because I'm old and no longer care about the competition.
Let there be holes in my armor. I don't believe anything can kill me any more.
One of the books I'm currently not-writing is the story of my life when it was the most awesome. It's damned difficult to revisit those times - memoir-writing feels very real while you're doing it - only to put them to sleep again. And here in my resting-state I entertain the processes it would take to do the cool things again. The math makes me tired, and I go back to recharging. I've learned to listen to my body, and to believe in homeostasis. It's a damned lot of work transforming, but if a dragonfly can shed his skin and take off, then so can I. I'll just rest here a bit longer.
As a different friend said, "In farming there is always next year."