It's Scary When You Really Look...

I've come to the conclusion that I'm basically living my life on top of a rug.

I've got lots of ...stuff ...swept under the rug. Since the pattern on the rug camouflages the lumps under it to some degree, I can pretend there's nothing there.

But every once in a while I trip over one of the bumps I didn't see.

Case in point...

I've lamented on the blog before that I didn't feel that I have any real life dreams that I'm working toward or believing for. One of the first journal entries in the latest effort to put 10 hours of true seeking time in was also about the longing I have for a dream and the lack of vision in my life in general.

The next entry was a couple of days later and, to my surprise, I'd found that I'd written about dreams that I felt were going to die if they didn't come to pass soon...even though I carefully worded it so that I never actually put a name to the dream.

Wait. Didn't I just say I didn't *have* dreams? How could I feel anxious about dreams failing if I haven't acknowledged that I have any dreams? I'd caught myself in a huge contradiction.

What did I trip over there?

I had to admit then that it's not that I don't have dreams...it's that I'm not allowing myself to admit to them. It's that jinx thing I mentioned in that linked post from November of '08. I still have a deep down expectation that if I admit a desire, the opposite thing will happen.

Or, worse yet, the dream would be dashed by other folks. Scorned. Judged and found wanting. Safer to pretend I don't have any dreams.

But, this week I realized that they are there, whether I would admit them or not. The reason I feel so frustrated isn't that life is conspiring against my dreams, it's that I won't own them. No wonder there doesn't seem to be much going on around me that would seem to be at all favorable for dream development.

So I made myself be honest with myself and I wrote down about 5 things that I am dreaming for. Some are pretty far fetched. Some I could easily achieve with a little self-discipline. All of them were hard to write out where I could see it...where I'd be reminded of what I was looking for/working for/hoping for...where 'They' could see what I want. I felt...vulnerable. But, in a way, I also felt relieved. I don't have to pretend about them any more.

Maybe someday I'll share them; for now, it's enough that I admitted them to myself and took the step of committing them to paper.

Trying to catch myself... Time Elapsed: 90 minutes.

I'm not sure when it happened, but somewhere I got buried.

Under laundry, under a measly 20-hour workweek, under accumulated papers that need filing, under sewing - for myself and for others, under a hectic could-it-be-that-we're-involved-in-too-much activities schedule, under the nuisance of watching calories coming in and trying to get some physical activity into the mix to see if I can stop the steady upward climb of the bathroom scales.

Suddenly, I didn't know where I was anymore.

But you can't throw life into STOP for anything...there's stuff that needs doing, and I haven't yet figured out how to hand it off to someone else.

So I'm trying to find where I last left my sense of humor, my ability to remember what I was going to say when I started speaking, my rest, and my glasses.

And my seeking heart. I actually remembered my determination to seek Him and recognized that, in letting the busyness overtake me again, I'd let that slide.

No, I haven't managed it everyday, but I did get a three half-hours at lunch time in the past week and a half. It's a start. I began the count over again. The goal is ten hours; I've got 90 minutes.

I have a feeling that when I get that part of my life back in line, I'll find myself right there.

I Love Summer!

Fresh fruit abounds. I snagged these beauties at a local produce market; they came from an orchard just this side of the Tennessee state line. I *could've* driven up there and probably gotten them cheaper, but I was happy to be able to swing by and pick these up whilst The Actor was at his drum lesson (drum instructor says,'Dude, you need a drum set...what practice pad did your folks get you?' I may be paraphrasing a bit...but we *did* get him an inferior practice pad, apparently. The guy at the store said there was no difference in 'em, so I got the cheap one. Sigh. Spoke to instructor later. Son was not quite giving us all context. All is well).

I don't know how I'm thinking we will eat all of these; I may need to freeze a couple of bags of peaches early next week.

But...my in-laws will be arriving for the weekend tomorrow, and Dear Father In Law really likes peach pie, so I expect I'll use a few.

These are still quite firm, although they taste really good. They'll be dead perfect once they soften just a bit.

Mmmmm.

bump

Ok, every time I've dropped in here to post in the last week and a half or so, I've read over the lyrics to the SSB and thought, "I can't bump that!" and gone away.

Now, I think I just need to bump it down and get over it.

Maybe if that's not the first thing I see I won't be so reticent to actually focus on getting what's inside outside...