Unedited

I have been wanted to write an unedited post so here it is. The bits in italics I wrote with my left hand.

I woke up crying this morning. I have been feeling slightly of balance all week. It started with the post about the sun. What is it about the sun that bothers me?

That speaking about the feeling killed it? That the sun is too bright and I will loose the ability to just be? That life will be filled only with doing? That I am killing the sun, not allowing its healing?


That sharing my thoughts on this space is robbing me of the ability to be honest with myself? Am I editing my innermost feelings to reflect them in a way that is understandable and acceptable to others? Should well alone be left alone to do its thing, to boil under the surface and explode into colour every now and again?

Florian has been slightly absent. I feel like my words bounce of his force field without being heard. What I say does not influence him because he is just not there. He is here now but when will he leave again? I don't want to mind if he is not here.

When is there time in the everyday world to be real? Work and friends and dogs and shopping all demand me putting on masks and roles so fast that this one goes missing.

The one that needs to write with her left hand to be there.


And with studies starting next week when will there be time for her? For blogging, for listening to the leaves, for the space that opens when there is nothing that needs to be done. Has to be finished. I don’t want to rush, rush, rush. I want to stop working every day.

This is what I’m scared of. That the sun will fill all my spaces, leaving no place to curl up with the blessed darkness enfolding me, that there will be no time to dream of the timeless.


How does one cultivate friendship in a world where there is always more to do? More to finish?

I want to see my mother. I also want to swim, to write, to truly listen to a friend.

I need to shop. I want to feed my dogs because I want them to be healthy and happy.


I want to take my dogs for walks. I want to meditate, to read. To just sit and look at a flower. To write to update my blog, to read other blogs, to reflect, to write, to make love.

To colour my new tarot card. To rewrite my CV. To do more tarot exercises. To listen, really listen to Lourens, Michelle, Helen, Allison, Florian, Matt, my mother, my father. To wonder at life and all its facets, not to see it flashing past as I speed down the highway.


If only I could slow down time. Within each minute I can spend an hour marvelling at the complexity of every moment. Turning it around, sniffing it, shaking it, putting it against my check, trying to sense it, feel it inside me.

But I also want life, friends, movement speed, experience.


And don’t forget the other stuff. Cooking, eating washing dishes, washing clothes, feeding dogs. Taking a shower. Going to work. All the intermediate steps forming part of existence.

I want money so that I can concentrate on building a new life, exploring myself, studying. Doing volunteer work. But all in my own time. To travel to India and to finish our cob house.


I think it is time to start the path of the moon