The relentless tapping of time on my door drives me inward. There is too much to do before I can actually accomplish anything. That’s the rub. And, it is no soothing balm. Nor, an anaesthetic. It is a paralytic. The swing of the pocket watch in time with the “tick”, hypnotizing.
Where does the resistance to change come from? I feel it in every fibre of my being. Both the intense need for me to make real change and my deep resistance to do anything differently. It is a very physical experience. Not painful. Although, the stress of it can induce headaches. It is what I imagine being Silly Putty might feel like. You can push it around; take it apart; bounce off things; stick it to things; even transfer images onto it. It retains little to nothing, eventually gets dingy and loses its adaptability.
That’s where I am this morning. As much as I have felt I have been moving forward. Today, I feel like I have simply been spinning my wheels, facing a different direction. Rather than getting out of the hole, digging in deeper by spinning the car around in the mud.
“Good morning inner critic! Would you like a coffee?”
Yes, there are “real world” issues I have to attend to. I made the error of reviewing the options I have for mayor before I started this. Now, there is a despair inducing activity. I was happy to see that there is a candidate I would feel good voting for. However, another, unfortunately, has me quite convinced that strategic voting may well be the only option for me on Monday. Or, perhaps it is time to leave this town…
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