It’s halfway through the year as I glance at the calendar and today is another of those days in a year, this morning another one morning in my life. My personal calendar commences on my birthday that is when I ritualize my own christmas and new year all in one. Its tempting to look back pessimistically reminisce and wonder just what happened for progressing so little if ever there was progress in my life. Not material aspects but more on the personal satisfaction that’s gnawing my insides.
This morning I got up late for the simple reason that I slept late. Doing some craft in an apparent attempt to calm that gnawing feeling. I know this craft would never get done in a month in fact it was designed to be a slow, meditative and repetitive motion taking much of my waking hours.
Waking up with a headache and regretting for last nights’ decision is a constant battle, it has always happened. Deciding on an impulse, out of excitement only to pay for it the following day. But that is how life should be. Investing time, resources, interest and effort for a passion that is only clear in your own mind. A personal thesis that you defend in your mental panel. Then paying for it with a migrane, sometimes constipation or diarrhea.
As you wake up everyday there is this ever awareness of constant struggle attempting to begin the day like the morning sunshine. Countless mornings, countless beginnings, countless attempts, countless failing.
There are 365 days more or less in a year, there’ll be more next year. I’m glad there are countless days ahead of me.