I feel like I’m battling myself– these darned up and down emotions and feelings of dissatisfaction. Maybe some feelings are meant to be kept inside– I hate the fact by writing about my own unhappiness that I could possibly pass on that burden to others in my life… not exactly what I want–
And honestly, my complaints with my life are truly my own– and my own doing or in need of my un-doing. I think I put too much on certain life successes to bring me a certain level of happiness. Of course, life has shown me over and over that happiness comes from the self– within– not from what happens to us or from what we have. Though, sometimes, it just plain hard to accept that little nugget of wisdom.
The truth is, today, right now, I am not happy with my life. I want my time to be better spent and I want to find more enjoyment in the time I’m spending. The sad thing is that I just don’t know exactly what it is that I want to do– or what exactly is missing from it causing this relentless restless striking me from time to time.
One thing missing from my life are moments of inspiration– moments that cause me to pause and create. I haven’t had enough of those lately. Maybe the easiest way to get more of those back in my path is to return to the path that brought them to my way. Poetry– oh even the word itself instantly brings about a sudden life spark– sharp, bright, and stinging– a reminder I’m alive. I don’t know what it is about wrting poetry that does that to me— there is something extraordinary in creating experience– an experience of words–