Poised and Waiting
Nov. 12th, 2003 06:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greenstormIt feels, just now, as if my life is hovering right over me, poised and waiting to crash down and carry me away with it. I have contrived this, knowingly, and now I wait to see what will happen.
To a certain extent we are our environment. To a certain extent we are what we do. What I do, how I live, has a habit of changing so abruptly sometimes, and another change is here on the close horizon. I wonder, a little, who I will be in three weeks. I wonder if I'll feel the same. I know I won't think in the same way.
I wonder if anyone will recognise me?
I've been waking up early lately. The SO heads in to work about six, and his alarm has been getting me out of bed with him. It doesn't work terribly well all the time, but watching the sun rise hasn't been a part of my life for a long time, and now it is. I think that's significant somehow.
I finally got a hold of my mom the other day, and I'll be going running with her two or three days a week at this time, starting next week. Running is good for me, and a very beautiful thing, I'll need to find ear protection against the frost, but other than that I should be good.
Yesterday was an anniversary with the SO for me. It's been a long time since we spent the day together, and this day was spent together but loosely. I'd forgotten what it was like to talk to him, to really talk to him -- it's a wonderful thing. He cares about the same things that I do, generally. I can talk about higher-level things with him, do you see these patterns, did you know people act this way, have you thought of why that? And it isn't work for him to think about them and talk about them. It's his element, as it is mine.
There's something so close there, between us. Or, maybe not close: maybe the thing between us is accepting, where I can say what I need to say and not censor myself at all, on any level. I sometimes despair of ever achieving that with anyone else. I know, now, that it can't be pushed or forced, can't be entered into unwillingly -- over time, it will occur if everyone wants it to, or it will not.
Despair and hope, mixed together, are something more textured and rich than neutrality. I can rest in this place awhile, with despair and hope, and watch.
My relationships are a lot of watching and waiting lately, now and into the future I think. They'll wake and shake themselves off sometime, dust will scatter, perhaps it already has with the SO and maybe the others will follow. Maybe that will be soon. Maybe it won't.
And so that, too, which has always been such a central place in my life, has moved off, has crouched, poised and waiting, perhaps to come out of the packing later than the rest. This is a strange way to live. I hope it will be good.
To a certain extent we are our environment. To a certain extent we are what we do. What I do, how I live, has a habit of changing so abruptly sometimes, and another change is here on the close horizon. I wonder, a little, who I will be in three weeks. I wonder if I'll feel the same. I know I won't think in the same way.
I wonder if anyone will recognise me?
I've been waking up early lately. The SO heads in to work about six, and his alarm has been getting me out of bed with him. It doesn't work terribly well all the time, but watching the sun rise hasn't been a part of my life for a long time, and now it is. I think that's significant somehow.
I finally got a hold of my mom the other day, and I'll be going running with her two or three days a week at this time, starting next week. Running is good for me, and a very beautiful thing, I'll need to find ear protection against the frost, but other than that I should be good.
Yesterday was an anniversary with the SO for me. It's been a long time since we spent the day together, and this day was spent together but loosely. I'd forgotten what it was like to talk to him, to really talk to him -- it's a wonderful thing. He cares about the same things that I do, generally. I can talk about higher-level things with him, do you see these patterns, did you know people act this way, have you thought of why that? And it isn't work for him to think about them and talk about them. It's his element, as it is mine.
There's something so close there, between us. Or, maybe not close: maybe the thing between us is accepting, where I can say what I need to say and not censor myself at all, on any level. I sometimes despair of ever achieving that with anyone else. I know, now, that it can't be pushed or forced, can't be entered into unwillingly -- over time, it will occur if everyone wants it to, or it will not.
Despair and hope, mixed together, are something more textured and rich than neutrality. I can rest in this place awhile, with despair and hope, and watch.
My relationships are a lot of watching and waiting lately, now and into the future I think. They'll wake and shake themselves off sometime, dust will scatter, perhaps it already has with the SO and maybe the others will follow. Maybe that will be soon. Maybe it won't.
And so that, too, which has always been such a central place in my life, has moved off, has crouched, poised and waiting, perhaps to come out of the packing later than the rest. This is a strange way to live. I hope it will be good.
