Sitting by my window this morning, I am thinking about what exactly I hope to do with all these ideas. These ideas, I say as I take a sip of my tea, will come to pass. I repeat this over and over. I have had lots of ideas, and even at my age, I think it is still too many for one person. But here I am with these ideas that have taken hold of me again.
There is a time to act, and there is a time to think. I want to be more of the acting sort but thinking is the gift that has given me much joy, grief, and ideas. Now, I have acted on a few. This year alone, I have distracted myself by productising a few of these ideas, and I feel lighter. But there is the gnawing. As I sit by my window, I know I am here not out of habit, but out of anxiety. Confusion?
I do not know what it is, but I need to get it out. It is making everything dusty and I'm smothered. I have never been able to fully rid myself of this gnawing. It has walked home with me all my life, sat and had a meal with me, watched me during family prayer, and now here it is, looking at me as I face my window.
I should be seeing cars and people walking somewhere, facing the reason we all do this rising in the day, getting ready, and all that. I should hear the sounds of such objects and more. I should be connected to the input and output of my senses, but I am here with my gnawing, and I'm writing this.
The stress of daily life could not fool me into thinking there is anything but this. Gnawing it is today, just like yesterday. Will it be over tomorrow? I wish upon the stars.