Day's End

With work consuming the majority of my time, lately, I have a tendency to begin to feel rather purposeless. My creative life falls to the wayside, and I have little time to rest in the sun and read and clean up after my morning rush. But, as I've worked at the coffee shop today, I've thought about whether I would feel satisfied if I was doing my creative work all the time. If my life was different, more free, would it be enough?

Sometimes I wonder if anything is really enough. I notice that I don't often feel satisfied. Part of this could be my ever-analyzing mind resisting any sort of rest or letting go. Part of it may be the fantasies of living a very gleaming, sun-lit, successful, romance adorned life.

And though I have my moments, even in my moments of bliss, I begin to roam the familiar passages of my brain, trying to draw conclusions from the bliss, and most often using up energy I could be spending enjoying, determining whether the bliss is warranted, whether I should start worrying, and usually the answer to that question is a resounding (truly unwarranted) yes.

What I've been thinking about tonight is how I can be content, what grounds I can authentically say, at the end of the day, that I've done what I've needed to, and it is okay to rest. First off, work isn't much of a choice, and while I'm there, if I can cultivate any positivity, any connection, perhaps any food for thought or eventual creative works, then work is not a waste. And, it financially sustains my other endeavors. After work, if I can go into my own work, and perhaps even for a half hour give over to the spinning wheels of color and words, I am fulfilling the part of myself that has always desired to make, to inspire, to tell stories, to breathe some sort of life that is not necessary to life, but to moving into the vibrant swells life offers.

If I can be close to someone...hug or laugh or spill or simply exist together for some amount of time, I have made connection, and connection is perhaps the most essential aspect of my happiness, of my finding meaning in life at all.

I don't think God hates me for not running running running all the time. Actually, I do think that, but I know, deep inside, that this is not the case. I know I also see myself in an incredibly negative light all the time because I have not accomplished. And, as mentioned earlier, I don't know if any accomplishment would actually make me feel worthwhile, as if I deserve to take in air, food, go into worry-less rest.

But, I am choosing, for my own sanity and potential happiness, to learn satisfaction. To, when sitting on my bed, seconds from lying down, know that I am human. That some wasted time is good. That if I have loved at all, been honest, done the best I could in my art and work (the best I can given any constraints and my humanity--not perfect), if I have striven at all to connect and know God (for me, this is important), than I am okay.

I can't afford to heap guilt over my head anymore. I need to know that rest is okay. That sometimes our expectations really are unreasonable, and in one day, unreachable. We need to learn the process, which is slow, and requires breaks and lots of time out cuddling, putting our feet up, breathing deep.