Yule and the Moon of the New Year
Where’s the Webb: 809000 miles from home; 90000 miles to L2. 90% of the distance. Mission day: 22. Arrival at L2: Mission day 29.
Sunday gratefuls: That the hostage situation at Congregation Beth-Israel ended. Anti-semitism. Bias. Racism. White Supremacy. All flavors of the human heart, bitter though they may be. Ruth and her vibrancy. Gabe and his willingness to help. Jon feeling much better. Josh for plowing my driveway. The Snow. And, ta day, the Fire hazard warning sign finally dipped into moderate for the first since I got back from Hawai’i in early July.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rabbi Charlie Cytron-Walker, even the hostage taker liked him
Tarot: Five of Arrows, frustration
“Look at where your own impatience and frustration have prevented you from reaching your goals. Do things differently. Moving forward focus your energy in one clear direction. Let go of your frustrations. Stay the course. Listen to your intuition.” TarotX
Oddly, this card, the Five of Arrows, speaks to me. In a way I might not have recognized; but, I finished reading Jonathan Franzen’s new novel, Crossroads, yesterday. I sat down with the intention of finishing and I did it. I felt more like me at the moment I turned the last page than I have for a long while.
Oh. That was strange. What was it? I’m a reader. I like to lose myself in books of all kinds. But. I’ve not been doing that, staying with reading long enough to finish whole books. Which I used to do all the time. And. I’d forgotten that.
Over the last several years, even before Kate got sick, I had begun to torture myself. Only of late have I begun to realize it. My self-torture comes like this: write a new novel, or finish the current one, Jennie’s Dead. OK but right now I have to exercise, because illness and death. Or, I need to exercise right now, but buying groceries. I could paint, right now. In a bit. After I vacuum. I had so many high priority things to do: lunch or breakfast with Alan. The grandkids coming up. Zoom with the Ancient Ones. With Diane.
Everything became important. Necessary. Valuable. I’d shucked off the useless and the frivolous. Pared my life down to the critical.
Then Kate got sick. And her needs trumped everything else. I hung on to the exercise because I needed the strength and stamina. Let everything else jangle together in a constant cage match for my attention and time and resources.
As a result, I rarely feel easy. Like I’m not in this moment. That’s not to say I’m highly anxious, not that either. Sort of a netherground between anxiety and languishing. When I’m writing, I feel grounded. When I’m reading, I feel grounded. Sometimes when I’m cooking. When I’m in a class. Too often, though, something always seems just out of reach, dealing with the insurance company. Getting the dishes back into the kitchen. Sleep. Workout. Follow the news.
I’m not describing this well because I don’t mean I’m constantly bombarded by a to-do list. The things that clash for me now all seem important, good, necessary. And I have trouble figuring out a way to include all of them. That’s the rub. That’s the frustration. That’s the four arrows missing the ram. What about that fifth arrow? If he keeps it where it is, it’s gonna miss. Well off the left rear hoof.
“Moving forward focus your energy in one clear direction.” I want to do that. I need to do that. But only one direction? Just not sure I know how.
