Waiting for my world to quiet down again so that I can write. I have a thousand words that need to be released, and I need the calm and solitude of days of rest – first to put the words into order for myself, and then to begin releasing them to paper or computer screen. I had a couple hours to myself the afternoon, in which I did nothing I was supposed to do. I did not write, I didn’t clean – I didn’t even sing.  I did nothing. It felt wonderful. I feel guilty for indulging.

Next week. I tell myself that next week I will begin in earnest. I will have time, my schedule will settle, I can do what I am supposed to do. Write. Sing. Keep house. Teach.  All the hundred things that pull at me and demand my attention. And after a day of calm and quiet solitude, I will give over my attention to those things. But not until then.

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