This morning amidst the clicking of keys in the office, I am lulled by the sounds of Coltrane.
Freight Trane to quiet contemplation, I am have been filtering through old emails. Sifting through the past can be a dangerous act. Much like flipping through the pages of your journal to chart your growth (or lack there of ) aged conversations immortalized in email can give pause to the applause.
Growth and regression, love and loss, repentance and transgression ... all sitting there in your "in box".
I am amazed and appalled all in the same breath at my willingness to repeat mistakes.
I marvel at my own tolerance and triumph, I grimace at my willful ignorance.
Much like pen marks up door jams, charting growth with each passing year, that suddenly stop -
I fear I've reached a plateau.
I am at a loss for what to do next. The familiar beckons me, because I KNOW how to struggle, and caretake, and give until there is nothing left. This selfishness is proving to be ... lackluster.
We live in a world where what we want is only what we want until it's ours.