Sunday Morning

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted.

It’s 10:37 and the children are still asleep. Everyone was curled up in their bed before 8:30. I am perplexed. Either they are sleeping way too much, even for teenagers, or they sat in bed for 5 hours watching movies and goobing on the Internet? Did I really ever do that? Ever? Really? I feel like I am stuck back on my side of the house, feeling guilty for making breakfast and coffee, and I slept in, late, over an hour and a half until 6:45. Now it’s getting close to lunch time for me and they are still asleep. I guess it will be bananas and kiwis plain and raw for me.

Yet, when we are parents to new babies we wish they would sleep more.

I feel guilty for not being more productive. It’s very weird to be sitting in my office instead of being in the kitchen on a Sunday morning.

I really have lost any conception of time. I feel like I am not really moving through time. I watch children grow up and friends age, people pass on, but in some cases I seem younger than when we met or when they were born. Even though the days whip by at frighteningly fast time-lasp speed, I remain stable. I imagine being 60 or 70 and still looking like I am 25, evoking a strange precociousness in the wisdom I will have undoubtedly gained by then. I feel I have already entered the crone phase of my earthly female existence, and yet, I appear to be a young woman, a girl even at times.

Many things become irrelevant very quickly. There is no longer a drive to communicate, because the message has gotten to those able to receive it and to those it hasn’t we know the opportunity is not present at this time. It is a waste of resources to speak when no one is listening.

The ego falls away and does not require reassurance.

We notice many sources competing madly for our energy and we no longer feel overwhelmed. We take a Scarlet O’Hara approach to life, “I’m not going to think about that now. I will think about that tomorrow.” Nearly nothing can hold my attention/energy for long enough for me to “complete” it. A movie, a book, a journal article, a television episode, an album, an art project… we are not moved and we rarely are entertained or inspired.

We feel we are losing our intelligence and our ability to think in a scientific or rational fashion. Science is far behind what we “know” and we feel like we are in the realm of pseudoscience. I still judge this in a negative light. Is there good versus bad pseudoscience? Our teeth are rotting and we feel guilty for using fluoride because we know that it is doing something to our intergalactic connection, but our teeth are rotting and it is annoying. It is scary to think of all the money we will spend trying to hold on to our teeth for another decade or two.

We feel that science tells us we should not eat so much fruit when our mother has diabetes, but we know that the high volume of fruit is keeping us from eating candy and reducing the amount of bread and pasta we eat and lighting our metabolism on fire. So what if it is contributing to our teeth rotting? We know the other benefits outweigh eventually losing our teeth.

It is difficult, virtually impossible, for someone at our level to now divine the future. Time is dissolving. Our original mission is completed. The grid is being connected and brought online in ways we never imagined, dreamed, or conceived, yet it is so far from what we had hoped, wished, dreamed, and fought for these past centuries to be at already. We are not there, and we cannot get there from here. Yet, these new frontiers that are here, are the last signposts that still time moves for us and within us. It is so new. We do not have a plan or even clear desires to move forward and so we exist as everything else speeds past us, some still sleeping.

I decided that ice skating on Friday night made the weekend feel longer, because it made Friday night feel like Saturday night. I may take advantage of this phenomenon again next weekend. The more space within time that I can buy myself, the better. I am ending as many commitments as possible and not replacing them so as to allow time and space for manifestation and greatness. Goodbye library. Goodby Veteran’s museum. Goodbye archaeology class. Goodbye community band (even though I never got around  to starting that one up again, it’s not going to happen). Goodbye archaeology. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

So what do I still enjoy?

I still love figure skating and wish there was a rink closer to home, but I am not moving my home anytime soon, so the rink must come to me.

I still like laying on the couch and spending an afternoon reading the imperialistic National Geographic.

I still like pottering around and drinking alcohol, mostly ales or wine.

I still like riding my dad’s 1978 Schwinn. I wish it were safer to ride the streets. I probably would hardly drive at all.

My new found joys are bread-making (for which I feel guilty, I mean I’m supposed to be raw vegan or something, right?), gardening, composting, and watching and smelling Mr. X home-roast green coffee beans.

Before the skating season, but after my new job, we found time to hang out, or more for me to invade Mr. X’s privacy on Friday nights.

I feel like I want to be a Shaker, or a Quaker, or Amish when I grow up.

I love hand-crafted food and furniture. I deeply appreciate vintage fashions.

I wish I could sew and design clothing.

Coleman Hawkins is in my heart. I know I was a dancer in Kansas City once upon a time. I carry a propensity for addictions, dancing, crime, and jazz that have carried over. We are really good friends. It’s amazing and creepy that the essences do not dissolve upon death, but we carry on, by choice, even as we manifest into new physical manifestations (?). Love is so powerful and the projections you dream persist. They are more holistic and pure when driven by love, gratitude, and freewill.

Giving up tobacco has been incredibly difficult. I miss the joy, pleasure, and relaxation it brought into my life. Yes, I am growing younger in my skin and hair and my lungs are getting pinker, but the advantages are at such a loss.

Teagan does not have a sibling on the way. Taylor is not the father. I am very glad for my Milwaukee family that that drama is out of their life. I am so happy that Liz has finally gotten a real job. I am perplexed watching the girls become adults.


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