I have a half hour before I go jogging a distance I still don't know the length of. I know it's over a mile, but am not confidant it's over two. Could be. I like to think I can jog two miles in approximately twenty minutes. I need to eat some food that will energize me, but not slow me down. I have a home-made "Lara bar" and about half a cup of our sauerkraut, which seems impossibly tastier every time I take a bite.
I am back to my morning pages again. I wish I could say it's because I'm am persistently disciplined, but it's really because I'm going through an "annoyed" phase.
Writing three pages of self question, answer, and gripe seems to really squeeze the irritating spikes out of my mood. When I'm finished writing I look up and see that my desk is becoming an altar. My inbox is cluttered, I have toys and trinkets and inspirational notes scattered around. My mission statement is by my lamp and so is the tarot card I pulled for myself today.
I ordered a few gifts for myself for my birthday, courtesy of a special pair of family members. I answered the pull I've been feeling and ordered a set of tarot cards and a recommended book which purports itself to be "the definitive guide to the cards and spreads." I have not really cracked into either yet, though I did give the images in my new Hanson-Roberts cards a good looking at last night.
As I shuffled around doing morning things earlier my thoughts ran toward pitying. I was missing Chicago. I was huffing and puffing about feeling rudderless. I came to my journal before things got too out of hand. I was already scolding my kitties like some out of control mother and didn't want the self inflicted poison to spread outwards. It seemed that I'd been nipping at my honey more than usual with my typical smart-ass/eagle-eye observations. I didn't want to get into the routine I have where I poke someone else then go poke myself a hundred times in penitence. I wrote. I miss Chicago. I miss the familiarity, the routine, the known of it all. I go to my journal to ask and answer myself questions, and to complain.
I need to decide and document what "work" is to me. Any outdoor yard/garden work is "work." I may feel I'm not working frequently because it will be so fun! (I am susceptible to delusions that everything is easy and/or fun and/or not requiring of sustained periods of effort.) Think about your dreams and shape your work around them. Write, Garden/Landscape, Learn computer programs, Job hunt, Read tarot, Read how-to books, Make bread without using a cook book.
Routine and familiarity are strong draws which I severed. Now I am tasked with re-braiding what draws me using fragments of old and also new thread. When we go hiking I have to remind myself that I cannot really hike while taking photographs, that it's one or the other and I must decide which I am doing. Recently, I told this to myself aloud, and I told the mountains in front of me: Today I am hiking. I will walk among you and with you mountains and I will allow you to imprint yourselves on me because I am hiking today, not photographing. I will come back with a camera and lenses and tripods another day. When the light is less pooky. You are here to stay, and so am I. I will get to know you, because we are both here to stay awhile.
I am still so alien here. It's not a bad thing, it's just surprising every single time something new is experienced, or some difficulty is forded. Back in Chicago I felt suffering because I was on the fast track to becoming the kind of adult I always swore to myself I would not be. Now I've chucked the routine office days, the working for the weekends mindset, and I'm not always sure that it's gone for good. Sometimes I really miss the schedule, the way I was void of responsibility to myself for a certain number of hours a week, because I had committed to being a certain kind of responsible for my job. That routine was like fast food for me. It was quick, filled a void, and prepared for me; I ordered it, ate it mindlessly, appreciated certain aspects of it, and then felt like shit later because I was nutrition starved.
Last night I read a very long and mind-numbing feminist debate online. One of the women referenced an idea she was newly learning and mentioned the zealotry that new students can fall into. I feel that I am being pretty constant in my writing about re-shaping my world. Sometimes I have a background worry that my friends in Chicago, who maybe even read this blog in their office cubicles, will not understand my retreat from that world, or the effort I put in documenting it. I fear that they will think I'm commenting on their choices, rather than on my own. I probably fear that because I have a habit of comparing myself with others when I am looking for confirmation that my choices are "right." This is how I write in my journal. I express fears, wishes, joys. I answer them with some rationale that comes from within. This rational voice often expresses the best and brightest parts of me.
Today I owe nine hours to myself. What can I call my imaginary boss or corporation? It used to be "the man," but now it's me! I want to be able to be crabby at the imagined boss. How about I just say "the boss." "I have to go, the boss is breathing down my neck." Today I will focus on two tasks.
Isn't it just like a Jew to plan complaining into her process?
After I finished writing in my journal, I felt renewed and focused again. I picked up my new deck of tarot cards and settled my intention for the card I would pull, and the kind of day I would have. I shuffled three times, cut, shuffled once more, cut and looked at the card I cut to. It would be my card for the day. I pulled the card with the following meanings: wisdom. Sound judgment. Serene knowledge. Common sense. Serenity. Objectivity. Penetration. Foresight. Intuition. Comprehension. Perception.
THE HIGH PRIESTESS is seated within the precincts of her temple. She holds on her lap a book of knowledge and esoteric wisdom. She is a large woman - suggesting challenge to masculine domination. She is the eternal feminine goddess of the ancient world, emanating both knowledge and wisdom into the life around her.
Yeah! I'm already loving tarot. Time to go jogging. The high priestess is breathing down my neck.