Once again, life has gotten crazy, money is tight, my little world is turned on its ear. I haven’t been able to write. Haven’t been able to think. Haven’t been able to breathe.
All this feels so wrong. I keep thinking of the song by the Indigo Girls (they were popular for a short time in the late 80’s, early 90’s).
“My place is of the sun and this place is of the dark. I do not feel the romance. I do not catch the spark. And I will not be a pawn for the prince of darkness any longer.”
Yeah, the emotional rollercoaster artsy people ride every day.
That’s the trouble with being busy. We get caught in the whirlwind of activity and everything spins out of control. We snatch and grab, trying to find some purchase, some toehold where we can gain some sense of control, some sense that life will not always be so difficult.
And being busy can medicate us too. It can numb the pain of damaged relationships, latent wounds that lie festering in our hearts. But it’s like taking tylenol for an aneurism. We realize that we can’t pull it down, it won’t come under our control. It isn’t, our life IS NOT ours to own, to rule.
So on my knees, I come to You, Lord. I’m Yours. You rule. I rest.
New price on my book “Daybreak”
Check it out at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/384362