Sometimes I feel the need to jot a few things down before I move on to the "higher priority" tasks on my daily list. Other times I'm able to say "nope" to putting my passion on the waiting list. Other times I'm better at living with the muddy paw prints on the floor, last night's dinner dishes on the counter. I heard a mom of three once say she was a "recovering neat freak" and I understood what she meant.
Anyway. I'm way off base on my regularly scheduled programming at home and in my writing, not mention hungry for breakfast and coffee, and running on nap-borrowed time. I actually can't ignore the mud clods, the hair balls, etc. because to really write I need more than an hour and to live sanely I need more order in my environment. That's just how I am.
Let me just be brief and say, boy it's windy here! The wind makes us crazy sometimes. It stirs up energy, makes old issues new again, makes us restless, talkative, and all these other weird ego outbursts you can imagine. I think we get it wrong. The wind probably wants us to listen, not try to talk over it. It wants us to find a little hillside, button up our sweaters, and stand tall as it batters about, whooshes, and brings stories we'll never be able to copy on paper. If we wait though, if we wait long enough to let the wind's busy blowing into ourselves, it will leave us better than it found us. The wind is a wise game player. But we haven't been doing too good a job listening.