I am a bundle of feelings tucked inside a human body.
Those feelings propel me across the landscape of my life a hundred miles an hour, scooping up experiences, falling into pitfalls, rolling over rough places and lapping up the long greenswards that really are there if I take time to notice them.
It took me a very long time before I realized that I was the cultivator of those peaceful places. That the one constant in my life is the intensity of my feelings and how I react to these feelings determines how the landscape is drawn.
I have been free to be my own creator for many years now and I do a pretty good job of taking care of me most of the time, but lately I have found myself bogged down.
Caught in one of the huge pits I mistook for a greensward because of its size, I have been lost in the soft pathos of a problem outside of my reach until I realized that hours, days, weeks have passed and I have accomplished virtually nothing.
If I had fallen into a rocky pit I could grasp hold and climb out, but this soft, sweetly dangerous place has no handholds that I can find. Wailing and screaming in outrage, or turning myself into a pitiful pot of neediness are dangerous and worthless ways of dealing with life. They really do not work.
My emotions are like a herd of wild horses. Always struggling to charge forward, manes flying, hooves pounding, muscles flexing to do the work and do it now. But the solution is generally more about standing still.
Patient, persistent, consciousness is hard for me.
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