I haven’t felt very inspired to write. At least not for your eyes and ears.
It’s like I’ve been cut off from grace.
Well. I am being extreme.
But that is certainly what it feels like.

I’ve been yearning for something I cannot name. Something I cannot describe. And every now and then I get a whiff of the emptiness that seems to follow me like a sticky shadow that never gives up.
I’ve come to understand this as part of my human experience.
I’ve come to learn that running away from my unpleasant feelings only creates more agony.
So now I sit with it.
I allow it to be.
I realize feelings come and go.
They are waves.
Sometimes they are up high. In the middle. Down low. Somewhere fluctuating between both extremes. All over. And that’s ok.

I am learning that there is greatness in simplicity.
There is joy in small moments. Like sitting here and writing this.
Or liking the way I look in my chestnut colored uggs and black leggings I cut into booty shorts.
Not everything needs to be some great accomplishment.
But it is great to be great as well.
And only time and continuous action will bring us there.

I am learning to play Kendama.
At first I sucked real bad. Now I suck a little less.
I can actually follow along ok.
This has taught me that the more you do something you know nothing of, the more you get better. And better. And better. And better. And better.
I’ve also learned it doesn’t have to be about being better all the time. Sometimes you just do it for fun. You just do it because you do it.

And so I write.