Missing Something

garama-cocoFirst Garama Coco of the Season

This week.

Oh this week with it’s dying truck, and crazy work projects, and trips to IKEA, and vapor caves. This week that’s barely begun and has been so filled feels a little empty. Like I’m rushing to get somewhere that isn’t defined. Sure there is the unpacking, and autumn planting (now where’d that bag of garlic go?), and there are costumes to make. But something is missing.

I’m not talking about happiness, even with the craziness I’ve had plenty of happy moments. But there is a definite sense in me that I’m not connecting. Not being part of all the things I love. Instead there is a lot of just doing. But what about all the community and making that I love where has that gone. Lately these weekly post are about all the creativity I’ve got going. It’s more of a free-form thought process than actually creativity.

I miss having that community of makers, whether it’s a knitting circle or a friend to can with everyone seems too busy or too far away. The excuse that being an adult is just that is wearing thin. Why am I supposed give up on the things that make me whole just to spend more time running around doing what ends up feeling like nothing?

This morning A took out his tin of felting wool and started to layout a knight he wants to make. He was all ready to begin but we have no clue what box the needles are in and I’m pretty sure the foam is long gone. That got me thinking about what I love in life and what’s missing. These spontaneous projects have been gone for so long they feel like coming home.

How do I go back to these things that give me such pleasure? How do I find more community doing the things I love when I feel like my life is almost all just getting from one moment to the next?

Is it the season ? The fact that we have a wall of windows now? Or the annoying way one of our cats is acting? What has shifted to remind me what I want to return to?

It may be a little of all of this, or maybe it’s the good books I’m reading that remind me that the world is larger than me and not just globally (with the way we ingest news lately it feels like we are all lonely islands in a world filled with bigger more important things than our own rooting).

The chant in my head since June has been once we’re settled in our new space things will be better, once we don’t have so many things we’re worrying about we can take the time to make life whole. Except when you end up spending the money that was going to turn on the internet on a tow truck things feel further away. Like another cosmic joke. At least there are books and movies from the library. But don’t bother calling me because there isn’t any service at our house.

I really want to demand of the world for it to change for me. I want to shout at the sky and ask for things, ask for smoothness in our lives. But I can’t I’m not good at begging not only does it seem pointless but I also know that my problems are small. I get that having a home, a job, and a family that sees each other a least a little most days should be enough. Except it doesn’t feel like it is.

But the things I am craving aren’t about needing more money or time. They are all about changing me (that’s the hardest isn’t it). Okay some of them are about searching out more community which is external. I guess this is one of those moments where just need to start.

open-journal

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