Maybe it's bad that you have to buy mid-wife-sessions to talk you up and calm you, if you can't get this from friends who family who live nearby and have the experience (we have that but they don't live nearby). Maybe it's a topic for political discussion about priorities of a welfare state.
Maybe later. For now ... we enjoy the peace. And peace gives an opening for all the love to pour through unhindered. To Jay.
So I did write my 500 words - which eventually got to be 1198 because I was in a flow and no alarms sounded. And then I used my reflections about this little decision to blog about for about 15 minutes which is also the time, give or take, that I reckon I can use on The Blog each day in the foreseeable future.
And in a little moment I will shift to client work and then shopping for house. We need a good suitcase to bring to the hospital and I think there is a store in a shopping mall that has them (and opening hours) this Easter Friday, so I'm going to check that one out.
Otherwise I need some tools for my toolbox to fix the final parts of the cupboard we bought for our clothes and Jay's. And that store is open. Even today.
But before all of that, now you know what toolbox I used to fix today's priorities of time and energy, and why I didn't make something extraordinary out of it being an official holiday.
Whether or not it was the right tools I used we will see in time. But if not, there are others I can try. That's the good thing about tool-boxes. You just have to remember to keep them well-equipped.
It was very strange to then just write and on the one hand feel relieved that I could and on the other feel a little sick about writing about the end of the world. But it was a crucial scene. In a crucial story, at least for me personally. So I guess that makes it overall the right outcome.
Dear Job Market,
I'm sorry but I have to let you go.
In the future this company will only make money by delivering services to several clients and creating products, in order to keep open a selection of active and passive income streams.
This is, in other words, organizational restructuring which, unfortunately, no longer leaves room for your position, which so far has been unique - as you were our only employee for years.
In addition, I've for a long time been highly dissatisfied with your performance as an employee.
Then it struck me, after having asked my higher angels for a bit of aid, that I felt incredibly ... grateful for all my stuff, all the beautiful important useful things I have with or without histories.
Even the shampoo in the bathroom ...
Or an old DVD I have to get rid off anyway to create shelfspace for babystuff ...
I. Felt. Grateful. For my stuff. All of it.
No matter how messy it was.
No matter that other people have more stuff and many other people have a lot less. I didn't compare at all, up or down.
I. Just. Felt. Deeply. Grateful.
For my stuff.
That was also not the worst of feelings.
In fact it was very beautiful, even if it was gossamer.
There's a scale on which I believe you have to go back and forth all life. If somebody behaves in a way that is unacceptable to you, and you don't have to please them because you fear them, should you then try to understand and please them because you have a moral obligation? Because their behaviour, like anger, is a veiled disguise for a positive intent, like wanting to be respected?
Or should you demand that people also live up to a minimum standard to gain that respect. A standard of behaviour you set.
The answer, as with everything else in life, is blowing in the wind and will differ from time to time.
It is not always right to try to respect people no matter how outrageously you think they behave. It is not always right to not care about them.
The the question in politics, and in life.
I find that it comforts me, though - and excites me, too. To just think of my particular dreams like this, to take them seriously. Maybe that they even point to something More: Like something 'visionary ... ' Or some reflection of a Greater Reality ... I mean, why not? People have been wondering about this for ages, and taking it seriously. Especially people not as civilized as us. So why not Dream of More?
The point is that my future just got more solid, more real, with all its ups and downs. Because I decided to chronicle it. Is that a good thing? For me, personally? I'm not sure. But it feels ... like it's going to be more meaningful simply because I weave it into some artifact for you to see after I am gone. Weave with my words ... After all, isn't that what we all long for, to be part of a story that has meaning?