My head is too full today and I feel like I'm running in a hundred directions. Instead I am sitting here, trying to clear the fog. When the baby sleeps I am compelled to write, work on my paying projects, do laundry, eat, drink more coffee, organize my life, make the bed, take a shower, talk on the phone, read writing magazines, and buy gifts online. Nothing screams out that it's a priority. Seems like I've spent too much time over the past five months trying to get the baby to nap, then waiting for him to wake up. And so I'm not sure what or how exactly this is going to work. Today I am tired. Was up twice with Scout last night...he doesn't want to sleep through the night. I'm afraid, like me, he's a night owl, and will continue to be. Or perhaps not.
I want to write about the plight of the world, the awakening of awareness and the beauty in a rock...but the words don't come. Where do I start to feel the creativity...how. The books say take a walk...go outside...but with a baby at home I feel stuck, and nothing but Scout inspires me. Perhaps I need to go back to basics, find a good pen.
Buddy the dog keeps me company from the rug in front of the door. It's the only soft place on the sunroom floor. And he sleeps, but keeps watch, and I love it. I look at him over the arch of the baby's exersaucer. His stuff is everywhere. It's okay though...just takes a bit of getting used to.
I think I'll meditate for awhile...quiet the voices in my head, and wait for the baby to wake up.