328. Forgettable Except For Me

Felt very clear today about at least some parts of the future. Especially that I have to seeĀ  The Blog as my primary purposeful work – even if the rest is excruciatingly normal and forgettable and not making any difference.

Yes, I suppose some of that “rest” is forgettable if you see me as just a person who lives an ordinary life. Which I am. Unique, maybe. But ordinary by any measure.

But to me at least much of it is deeply meaningful, and that’s probably how it is for billions of others, right? I mean like … friendships.

Not stupid work but relations. Those are deeply meaningful even if nobody else knows about them, not even Hollywood.

And the choices you make with relations.

Like seriously considering not going to an old get-together with my childhood friends, because I am only interested in talking to MRN and JMO, at least now. Maybe not always, but now – with limited time, limited money, limited space in my head and heart.

Then what is usually good, like ‘the guys getting together’, becomes something I seriously consider skipping. Even if there are costs. Like not seeing two of my best friends at an important occasion and knowing they have troubles in their lives.

But talking about that can and should be done by phone. It will not be done during a “guys”-get-together.

That sort of thing can be good and virtuous in a way. And healing. But I don’t think it is for me – not now.

A day all on my own would be healing.

So I will have to consider how to tell my best friends I’m not coming, which will probably be a lie that I’m ill, even though I know I shouldn’t and I ought to do better with them.

But right now it also feels right to lie. Just as I will do to my family.

You see, I promised to drive Char to our nephew’s 4th birthday down south and I told everybody I would come later because I was going to this old friend get-together.

But instead I will drive home and be alone for some hours, I think, and just think about all the things I have not had time to think about with Jay, with my ill mum, with work, with doing dishes.

Just me and some coffee and some stillness.

At a price. But here’s the chance.

That sort of thing which is forgettable but incredibly important. For all of us.

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