Hummingwolf at Home

I have the feeling I'm not supposed to be comfortable right now. This annoys me. Isn't it time for me to be able to relax, to rest for a while? How much endurance do I have to have? How much patience do I have to use up? But no, it's not even an external pressure: inside, as much as I want to relax, to cocoon, to curl up and ignore the world, I also feel the need to stir things up, to change, to whirl around in some new motion I swear to you I don't have the energy for.

Cocooning, making a place for myself away from the world, is often a necessity or at least a very good idea. But not today. Why not today? I don't know, but not today.

I want to not think any new thoughts. I want to not experience any new experiences. I want to curl up with a book I've read before and see nothing new in it. I want to listen to old favorite songs and pay no attention to the lyrics, ignore the music trying to pull me into a different world. Books are dangerous. Music is dangerous. People are dangerous. Listening to soccer players in the field nearby might make me feel or think something uncomfortable. Looking at a flower might take me places I don't want to go.

If I were a person who liked to drink beer and watch television, that's what I'd be doing now. "Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream..." but I don't want to go downstream. I don't want to go anywhere. Why can't I stay in place for a little while? Just for today? I know things in my life need to change--I want things to change, desperately--but not now, thank you.

I want to eat lots of chocolate chip cookies and go to sleep and not dream. But that isn't going to happen.

Maybe it's the weather. Windy days always did make me restless.

In February I wrote:

"It's strange. I have this feeling that I need to prepare for something to come by solidifying myself in a way, creating and hardening a central core to my personality which can be used as a sort of base of operations; or perhaps it's more like solid ground in the middle of a bog, a landing pad for all future flights of fancy. Something solid, something central, something hard and well-defined.

"But I feel like I need to do this self-solidifying by scattering myself to the four winds, seeing which parts of me come back and what surprises they bring with them when they come."

Something's shifted. Though there are still places I wanted to send them, I can feel those parts of me coming back home. The time of their return is unknown to me, but they are winging their way back and I need to make some preparations. Now is the time to shore up my foundations, so that when that solid core forms it will not be lopsided but will be straight and level as I need it to be.

The above may be meaningless to you who read this. It makes perfect sense to me. Then again, sleep-deprived as I am, "Jabberwocky" makes perfect sense to me.

It's strange. I have this feeling that I need to prepare for something to come by solidifying myself in a way, creating and hardening a central core to my personality which can be used as a sort of base of operations; or perhaps it's more like solid ground in the middle of a bog, a landing pad for all future flights of fancy. Something solid, something central, something hard and well-defined.

But I feel like I need to do this self-solidifying by scattering myself to the four winds, seeing which parts of me come back and what surprises they bring with them when they come.

Um.

::looks at empty tea mug::

Maybe it's the caffeine talking.