… and breathe…

Apologies to those who get this by email but two minutes after I had written the previous post, I read Paulo Coelho’s blog and stumbled promptly upon this:

by Thomas Merton:

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going,
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.

Nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so.

But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.

I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road,
though I may know nothing about it.

I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Just wanted to share this moment…

Bed Day/ Bad Day

worried (Photo credit: s.alt)

This weekend I spent one whole day in bed because I felt ill. Actually ill, not alcohol related ill. It was kind of coming for a couple of days but I had things to do, places to go, people to see. Then Saturday came with an empty diary and despite a sunny day my body decided that it needed to sleep. A lot. There was so much my head wanted to do but it had to wait, the rest of my body wanted sleep.

How long has it been that I’ve just lay in bed and did nothing all day. Nothing is relative mind, I watched a film, read some of my book and managed to write some emails about articles I wrote. Still over a full day that is nothing and I slept. I also managed to not have any appetite and I only forced myself to eat something late afternoon. Another massive sign things were not well, I can always eat. Except when ill.

Maybe I was just tired. Sometimes I wonder if I worry too much and make myself ill. ( Yes, this can also be read as: “I worry that I worry…”) My head thinks there is a lot to worry about when really it is alright. We keep making progress though, my head and I: yesterday I told it to be quiet, to enjoy the not having to think and to just sleep. It did. Wonderful.

My worry is my weakness. I’m not sure what the worry is about, maybe never being a writer. No, I am already a writer. Never making money? It was my choice to hold out for a job related to my interests. About failing? I’ve been there done that and it feels different.

Maybe I worry that there is another way? Yes, that is the worry, that what I’m doing now is not the most efficient way of doing things. That I’m doing the wrong thing, going the wrong way but that I cannot see it. Everyone knows I cannot navigate to save my life. How cruel would that be? You think you know what you want to do in life, but you need to find the right way to get there: otherwise you die disappointed, poor, bitter and alone. On the street. With people ignoring you. Even though it is -15C. That’s how you’ll die, you will freeze to death and your body will be eaten by alsatians. That happen to be around. Oh but if it is any consolation: at least you tried.

I guess that’s my worry. Sometimes.

Should I remind myself that if I don’t do this in my own botched up spazzy worried way I will definitely die disappointed, though perhaps not alone or eaten by alsatians. Though you never know. Guess I have to take my chances that I might be wrong because it’s the only way.