Things are going well, and not going well.
I’m working hard to earn money in my little firm. Char is working hard to keep upright and still going to work for another month or so with her growing belly.
Our apartment is still messy and there never seems to be enough time and energy to get it ready. Much less to do the breathing exercises Char learned at a course to control pain during labor. Or for me to read and repeat about what I can do.
I feel I barely have enough energy, much less time, for dishes and cooking. Instead in the evenings I do the thing I hate: I zone out in front of some TV-show. Instead of drawing, blogging, calling a friend or doing one of the things above.
Don’t even talk about sex …
Things Which Are Pretty Important: Getting cleaned up in our 2-roomer. Getting ready, mentally and physically. Both of us.
And all the while there’s the ghost in my mind continually whispering that I missed something important and I’m stuck and I’ll never get around to do what’s important.
From now on, it’s just work and child-rearing, and we’re too old now already to be in any good shape when one of these jobs is done.
That’s what the darkest voice says, anyway …
It doesn’t even help to feel ashamed that I’m always better off than a street kid in Bolivia. Much better.
It never helps, but sometimes it does. Comparing …
What I do feel instead is more shame, actually. Shame that for all my faith and all my sense of … something Higher, something Powerful, something Benevolent – moving in and around us …
For all that … which I have felt from time to time … many times …
For all that … I can’t keep focus.
I just think of the things above. All that, and I’m afraid of how … things will go.
Like the birth. Like time afterwards.
Like everything …
Will I ever do what I came here on this Earth this time to do? What was it anyway?
Important as Jay is, as Char is, as earning money and buying food and eating it is … those things are not all.
But I grow weary, as the years pass. Wearier and wearier. And I’m still not that old. That’s a worrying sign.
One the one hand I know a lot more about what I can do and what I should do to make that difference in the world, I want to make. I know how long it takes. How much patience it takes. How many battles are not worth fighting.
I did not know that when I was younger. I thought it was so simple as going to demonstrations and signing petitions and getting the right, enlightened education to help people.
It is not. It is just a step.
But I did feel more … alive. In some way.
I wonder if it’ll help going out to my rented office space in that old NGO-building tomorrow. I’ll probably run into someone from Humanity in Action or whatever, if I do. That’s what I was hoping for. That and helping them a little bit with their websites or whatever.
I’m going there. I have a meeting with a customer. He makes droplet-shaped lamps, by the way. Wants me to make him a new web shop.
He is not doing that well, I get the feeling – selling, I mean. And his wife is on maternity and they have three kids.
He should feel adrift.
Maybe he does.
What I would like him to tell me is more about what he does when he feels like that.
Perhaps that is the true purpose of going out there tomorrow.
Maybe we are both adrift. But being adrift together can and should and will help.
Two pairs of eyes can better spot the light of land, in the dark.