simmering

like a cauldron bubbling
not so much trouble
but maybe a potful of delight and dreams

The year of true paths is winding towards an end. So much have been learned, most in very painful ways. But I am still here, surviving the consequences of choices and random acts of courage.

There have been losses in so many ways. My head still reels when memory marches before me a string of small tragedies and disappointments and failures long enough to strangle the breath out of anyone with a weaker spirit.

But yes, I believe my spirit is much stronger than it ever was.

As this year ends what is left is clarity.  It has swept through every aspect of my life and shooed away the shadows, forcing me to see.

I end this year better than I ended last year. In a manner of speaking. It is all a matter of perspective. I choose to see it as better.

bed-weather wednesday

But I was up early enough to not feel hurried through the morning.

And so far my pace is quite agreeable. 

I am discovering new depths of joy from working with watercolor, dip pens, and ink:

Not to mention that I am absolutely loving my return to the good ol' filofax. Updated with chronodex scheduling and inspired by John Winchester's demon and monster diary. I love the flexibility of adding and removing pages as well as rearranging them. 

I am way behind my word targets for NaNoWriMo but I remain optimistic. This year's novel has been harder to shape than the first and I admit there have been too many distractions and causes of dismay (i.e. Dayjob).

I have gotten around to printing inspirational pegs for my art-making, something that has been on my to-do list for ages.

Being focused and centered, even for the things that you sorely, desperately want and love, can be a challenge in the midst of daily demands that chip away at your strength and resolve. What has been helping me through is writing. I write when I am shaken and I write when I am lost. Somehow the words help me find my way again even if it is only as far as the next tiny step. Sometimes the writing simply helps me stay afloat on the worst of days, either days of raging storms or days of death-like stillness. Between the two the stillness is the more unnerving, when nothing seems to move and you even begin to doubt if the world still breathes. I write through it all, carving paths through the emptiness, holding up the oft-flickering flame of hope that keeps my own heart alive.

sometimes all I can do is help the energies along and hope for the best

So I finally got around to putting together this little wish/dream/vision altar which will be my daily reminder and focus aid.

I really want to make the most of my life and to live it meaningfully and part of that is going to the UK. London first, and then the rest of it.

It's a rather long and complex story why I am so drawn to Great Britain and I am certain I have not yet even figured out half of it.

In any case here is my simplified physical manifestation of my wish/dream.

That giant cup in the middle has my London savings fund. When it overflows I will transfer it into the home safe.

I try not to think of the logical hows. Instead I encourage myself to see the magical twists and turns that often lead to dreams coming true. I've done it once before. I know I can do it again.

transitions

I started the whole moving process late last week and it was not easy. It was physically and emotionally exhausting. As of yesterday we have finished repainting the bedroom. Today we will start arranging furniture and things to be able to fit everything, like a giant puzzle. My target is to start settling in by the end of this week so I can resume some semblance of work by next week.

I had mixed feelings all throughout. I was very sad about dismantling my independent life but I was also touched by my parents' excitement at having me home again. I was angry with the bank who cornered me into this decision and I was disappointed with the general scenario of things that left me with very little options.

At the same time I found validation on who my true friends are and how wealthy I am with the genuine affection and care of others.

I make the most of this distressful shift in my life by keeping my faith that this is a necessary turn for me. It may not seem to be the most obvious way to get to England but who knows?

Dismantling a life. Packing up possibilities.  

A Puzzle of Keeping Sanity and Harmony 

New Room WIth A View. Playing With Colors To Frame A New Life Chapter.

Collaborative Artists' Space. New Possibilities.

midyear review

Come with a whoop,and come with a call.
Come with a whole heart or not at all.
(Neil Gaiman, The Ocean At The End Of The Lane)

I am on my third year of being independent from employed work. It has been a very rough road but every time I look back, even though there are a few tweaks I would like to have done, I never ever regretted the move to resign from a very lucrative employment.

Whenever I look back, what stand out are the shining moments of my rediscovery of my passions. The first time I painted after more than two decades. The first time I wrote a novel. The first time I acknowledged how much I love writing, reading, and making art after many years of believing that they were dispensable hobbies next to the career that everyone measured me with.

Last year the solo work got to a point that I was desperate. I was in danger of losing my home because I had missed payments. There were no projects for more than six months. I wished for a job.

This year the job came. And so did the projects. And I found myself in a quandary. But in the end I chose to be true to what I have become.

It sounds crazy. A steady, most likely very fat, paycheck given up for a continued life of financial roulette. All I had to do was say yes. But I said no.

It was not an easy decision. But my heart has been more vocal since I started on this particular journey and it would not give me peace. My mind came up with exquisite arguments, logical explanations of the hows which, I have always been told, should be left in the hands of the Universe. Logic can only take me so far. In the end, will I be happy? Will I wake up in the morning with optimism or with dread? Will I risk the joyful creative life I have started to build for a life that satisfied only the expectations of others?

At the hardest point of my contemplation, Neil Gaiman's The Ocean At The End Of The Lane presented itself like a sign. It had completely slipped my mind that it would be out already, and I stumbled into it on the way to a client meeting. A beacon amidst the turmoil of my own thoughts.

"How can you be happy in this world? You have a hole in your heart. You have a gateway inside you to lands beyond the world you know. They will call you, as you grow. There can never be a time when you forget them, when you are not, in your heart, questing after something you cannot have, something you cannot even properly imagine, the lack of which will spoil your sleep and your day and your life, until you close your eyes for the final time...you will die with a hole inside you, and you will wail and curse at a life ill-lived." (Neil Gaiman, The Ocean At The End Of The Lane)

The Year of True Paths is halfway through. After finally making that crucial decision I need to make a plan. Solid enough so I will be true to myself in the daily choices I make, loose enough to allow for the playful storytelling of the Universe. For instance, London. I know I want, I need, to be there. The how is not clear, but I can do my part every day in little ways. London is my love story now. Each day is a step closer to a happily ever after.

"...so I turned, randomly, down another road, and took a left, and a right. It was only then that I realized where I was going, where I had been going all along, and I grimaced at my own foolishness." (Neil Gaiman, The Ocean At The End Of The Lane)

I heard it said, "When two points are destined to touch, even if a direct connection is impossible, the Universe will always find a way."

My heart tells me it is only a matter of time. And what of time? There is plenty. There is always enough. It is always perfect.

spilled

This homemade video spilled out of me today. I have been in a strange mood for the past few weeks, inundated by too much work and besieged by dreams.

The images in the video are approximations of what I see playing in my head. I hope to capture it better when I have the time after all the madness of this month.

The music I used is by A Fine Frenzy, a song titled "Swan Song".

blue

i dream of the blue sea

a blue box that is bigger on the inside

the blue-ness of turquoise

the blue feeling of wanting to go somewhere

a handful of blueberries

that movie called blueberry nights

a blue sky streaked with gray

blue ink spilling like tears

the blue in the english flag

waking up that blue feeling again

the Doctor's blue suit

my tattered blue shoes

something blue to go with the old and the borrowed and the new

s.h.

captured into words on 2 July 2013, while settling into bed for sleep

clarity in the deep

watercolor, derwent inktense, on 300GSM rough paper

I am standing by my choice three years ago. I thought I could compromise but I couldn't. I have to be certain. I have to be clear.

So life may be a tougher and tighter a little while longer. But I don't mind. I have my books, my writing, and my art. I can feel the love of my family. I can feel the support of true friends.

Inspiration surrounds me everyday. There is so much around me that bring me joy and they don't cost a single centavo. Because they have been mine all along. Or they have been free for the taking all along.

London is still happening. Maybe not in the most obvious way. But it is happening. The Doctor and Sherlock agree on it.

do more happy

Yes, yes, I should be working not sneaking another blog post.

But this particular project I am working on has been triggering all my inner alarms. It has even led me directly into an old Evernote entry where I made a first attempt to craft my Life Purpose according to Jack Canfield's Success Principles plus a host of other inspirational books.

My first attempt was true but trying too hard. It was unwieldy.

This time's attempt is clearer and it gave me that feeling of rightness.

And here it is : MY PURPOSE IS TO USE MY CREATIVITY AND IMAGINATION TO INSPIRE PEOPLE WITH STORIES AND IMAGES IN ORDER TO ENCOURAGE AN AUTHENTIC LIFE LIVED WITH MEANING AND MAGIC.

And you know what, it starts with the very example of my own life. Which brings me back as to why my inner alarms were sounding so loud. The path that I have been considering is not one that makes me feel happy or fulfilled. My logical mind can argue for its financial benefits but not much else. There is admirable leadership within that path but the day-to-day realities that will impact most on myself, my sanity, my purpose, are where the not-too-happy feeling is coming from.

A dear friend called me up from Indonesia the other day and she has given me a lot of good advice to think about. But one important thing she made me realize is appreciation for the amazingness that is my life right now. It may not pass social standards of a typical successful life but it does pass for the many people who have expressed their desire to be able to do what I did -- to take the captain's wheel of my life and navigate it through a temperamental sea. To be willing to throw so many things overboard. To leave the safe harbor.

It has not been an easy journey. I will admit that there were many many times I considered heading back to shore. 

But then every morning there is a beautiful sun that rises from the horizon, turning the water around me into gold.

what i want

But I have had to do a lot of errands and work even over the weekend. I did manage to read and finish Why We Broke Up (third book from top of pile) but felt so horribly guilty and stressed afterwards because I read instead of working. I hated the feeling.

Hence I worked all Sunday, only pausing to celebrate Father's Day with my family, and I secretly envied everyone I saw in the restaurant and in the mall because they did not have to go home to work.

I was feeling so low that I could not even appreciate the books in the book shops, nor was I in the mood for any indulgent snack. The work kept bouncing around in my head and I was busy convincing myself that I would get it done.

I did buy myself a little something to remind me of why I got myself into this bit of a mess in the first place, and at the same time also to remind me of the resolutions I have come to in the past four days. I dug up an old Evernote post and everything was there, all the answers I have been looking for.

"To be 'on purpose' means you're doing what you love to do, doing what you're good at and accomplishing what's important to you. When you truly are on purpose, the people, resources, and opportunities you need naturally gravitate toward you." (Jack Canfield)

"Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary." (Steve Jobs)

My dream of London is as big and as strong as ever. But there are many ways and many paths to get there. It does not have to be a sacrifice, or a costly trade-off of time and passion and joy. The obvious most logical choice does not always mean the only way or the best way. There are off-beaten paths. There are paths behind wardrobes. There are possibilities inside blue boxes.

sick day and introverted musings

I have been under the weather all day yesterday. I suspect an intense stress and anxiety attack as the main cause. Things at work are rather stirred up at the moment and important decisions have to be made.

In the middle of all this I found myself thinking about a bit of a revamp for this blog. Maybe it's my way of coping with all the other matters that demanded for my time and attention. I am also feeling that familiar itch to lock myself up in a room for days and write my books without interruption.

It is Saturday and I will have to get some work tasks done. Then tonight I might be stepping out a bit to visit a friend whose father had just died. If events unfold as planned I might also end up telling another person how much I had been hurt by his behavior weeks ago and for which I have hardly forgiven him.

Yes, it is most likely too much anxiety and stress that is getting me all sick and tired in every sense of the words.

I am reading this book :

It is written by Sophia Dembling and it caught my attention while I was browsing in the bookstore last Thursday.  It is easy to read and very uplifting for an introvert like me.

I like the chapter that discusses friendship:

"What is a friend? We probably all have out own definitions. For me, it's someone I don't feel alone with. Who doesn't bore me. Whose life I connect with and who takes reciprocal interest in my life. It's someone I feel comfortable turning to when I need to be talked off the ledge, and for whom I am glad to return the favor."

"Once we start investing in a friendship, we start weighing what we get back. It's a make-or-break time. And for introverts, the investment can feel costly in terms of energy expended. It's the points when we start asking, 'why bother?' --- a legitimate question, as long as it's treated as a question rather than a blow off. Is this person willing to see you, and fun to be with, one-on-one? Does the conversation flow? Is it satisfying? Do you feel energized or depleted after time with this person? I love friendships where the conversation is so interesting, you can't end it even when the visit is supposed to be over."

Sometimes I feel I could use a couple more people who could be real friends. I could relate when my sister moans her lack of a girlfriend posse. We both dream of a constant group of four to five girls sharing the same values and overlapping some interests. The values are important. We could like totally different music but having the same values mean we agree on the things that matter -- in our case those would include compassion for animals and care for nature, reciprocity and responsiveness in relationships, respect for religious beliefs, just to name a few.

I am an introvert who is rather pained by the fact that I have to survive in the world of advertising. I am writing myself a whole notebook on the subject to sort it out and maybe find something that could ease me through until the time that I could fully focus on my book-writing and art-making. I don't want t spend days of my life just gritting my teeth through "shoulds" and "musts" until I could literally afford to be simply a writer and an artist.

Sometimes I feel like the effort will kill me. Pushing myself to be the kind of person everyone expects and then be the kind of person I really am. It's a tightrope walk without a net.

I promise to be brighter soon.

Keep Calm and Buy Books

Keep calm and buy books. Secondhand so you can buy three for the price of a brand new one. Then count the days (6) until you can start reading to restore the wreck you have become after juggling two big projects in an effort to raise funds for monthly bills and dreams of travel (still not enough).

The past few days have been sprinkled with delays and time snarls. In the next few days the repercussions of those delays will be fully felt and I will most likely be a zombie by Tuesday evening.

Still, the work I did this week is not without its hidden nuggets of inspiration. And help does come in some form when you absolutely need it. And there is always my health and my skills to be grateful for. And there is always Sherlock and the Doctor and Neil Gaiman.  

look up

See there among the tabs, one that is titled 365 for 2013. Yes it's my own personal 365 project. It's a humble project, and I designed it to be easy. A picture a day, with a lot of leeway on what kind of a picture it could be. I was inspired by Lisa Congdon's 365 Days Of Handlettering from last year and she even got a book deal out of it before the year ended. Well, I don't think my little project will be book-worthy yet but at the very least it should help establish me as an artist in some distinct and solid way. One of the pictures has already been claimed by a cousin. She offered to buy it but I insisted on giving it as a gift instead. Generosity, especially within the early stages of an endeavor, will go a long way. Good karma always pays.

Meanwhile I am motivated to meet this challenge I set for myself this year. I am still in the early stages so it is easy to get into it but the real test to my commitment will be when work starts to pour in again. I still have my writing to make time for as well as for reading all those books lined up by my bedside table and in my Kindle.

The drawing and the painting soothe me in similar ways as writing does. It is in that momentary transportation into another plane of existence where anything is possible and everything makes sense. Where whatever comes out of the pen or the pencil is real and alive. Where colors speak their hidden names and words reveal their secret powers. Worlds are born. When I am creating stories or images I find peace. I feel a calmness that I could never fully achieve with doing anything else. Writing and making art center me, ground me, keep me tethered to life and just enough sanity to distinguish between this world and the other worlds I travel through when my hand wraps around a pen or a brush or when my fingers start flying over the keys.

Writing and making art are the refuge of my heart when it is besieged by doubt and fear. How I wish and hope that I will one day sustain my physical life with my creations! To get up in the morning eager to work because work would be walking into my studio to add products for my popular art shop or to prepare for a small exhibit or sitting in front of a half-finished book for which an advance has already been received. Blissful indeed.

What dreams are you dreaming this year?

sunshine within the storm

I am being thrown about by financial tornados and heart tsunamis. I crawl my way into the eye of the storm and anchor myself with a paintbrush, a pencil, and a pen.

Colds and cough kept me at home today, with not much to do because sudden movements made my head hurt and make me want to throw up. A low fever flits in and out, undecided whether to camp for the weekend or just treat me as a pitstop.

Things certainly look more dreary when you're sick. I surrounded myself with the comfort of my books and made myself busy with art-making. I slept when my eyes started to hurt or when my skin started to burn again.

Watercolor and charcoal is fast becoming my favorite combination. Here I recreated a set of lucky fish that used to hang from my ceiling. I got rid of the fishes when they got torn and too dirty. I don't know if it was coincidence but the money-making projects dried up after that. So I recreated them by hand and will hang them in my home again. Just to be on the safe side of universal rules and schemes and energy flows. Just in case.

This one is a bit of a play with words and ideas and feelings. 

I did not get to do much work-related tasks today. My head hurt when I tried to steer my mind towards serious thoughts that required strategy and rationalization and very careful crafting. After a few failed attempts I decided to put off the work tasks for when I am feeling much better and when my head is more cooperative.

2013: The Year Of True Paths

I woke up very late today because I got home at almost four in the morning. My sister and I spent the first couple of hours of the new year watching Sense And Sensibility and taking good lessons from Jane Austen.

When I got home I was still very much awake and had to read myself to sleep, which meant that it must have been almost five in the morning. In keeping with one of the themes I intend to embrace this new year, I progressed through The Jane Austen Guide To Happily Ever After.

I changed my curtains into a sunshiny polka-dotted piece in the hopes of attracting money energies. At this point, every little bit will help, as far as I am concerned.

In the evening, I dared to spend a little bit of cash to treat my family out to dinner. It has been a long while since we could afford to celebrate by eating out in a nice restaurant. But I figured, it is the new year, and the energies are fresh and hopes are recharged. We went to a place we have not tried but which promised delicious celebratory comfort food. We had traditional dishes of crispy pata and kare-kare with steamed rice. We were served a complimentary basket of crispy delicious cracklings while we waited for the meal to be served.

Before leaving the house for dinner though, I finished a piece that was inspired by a private joke and secret among myself, my sister, and a common girl friend.

When I got home after dinner, I did one last journal page and admired my own handiwork. Love will be taken seriously this year, in all its forms and expressions. I will not be embarrassed by it, nor will I treat it like an afterthought.

2013 will be a Year of True Paths. After the rebirths of the previous year, it is now the time to nurture what have been reborn and rediscovered. To let these, by their nature, invite the right kind of people, opportunities, events, and experiences. The true ones that will nurture my own spirit and happiness. True friends, true loves, true passions. There will certainly be a lot of walking, aching feet, occasionally getting delayed by either hunger or exhaustion, maybe sometimes putting off the forward march by a day (but never more than a day). There may even be some doubling back, because of something forgotten or something missed. A loose end slipping out that must be cut clean. But always, always, it will all end with moving forward, even if it means leaving things and even people behind (like when they don't wish to walk with you nor catch up with you nor carry their own weight in the journey.) 

In moving forward I hope to see new places, meet new people (even if it is seeing the same old people in a new light that will forge deeper relationships), gain beautiful new experiences that will bring new lessons (or new ways of learning old ones). I hope to learn new things, to discover side journeys that will help me grow, and also I hope to be something new and something true to other people. I hope to be a true friend, and when the Universe says it is time, a true love. 

What true path will you be walking this year?

The Gifts of 2012

This old year coming to an end has fulfilled its purpose in my life. Today, on its last day, I want to write something for many reasons -- to end this year with awareness instead of just letting it slip by, to have a post to read on the same day next year, to set my mind and my heart for the new year, and most especially to be grateful for the gifts that this year has given me.

I had thought 2011 to be like a dark tunnel as it led to the Rebirth promised by 2012. Little did I realize that the Rebirth was to be accompanied by intense labor pains that came in overwhelming waves. But with every push there was an aspect of myself that breathed into life.

I wrote a novel. That perhaps is the biggest gift I am grateful for. My rebirth as a writer. I won the NaNoWriMo challenge at the first try and have unlocked the rusted gates of my storytelling.

In addition, I have also written more profusely than ever since I lost my muses sometime way back in the early 2000.

I painted and made art more than I have ever painted and made art in that past sixteen years. I have also invested in a watercolor painting and a photography workshop to help with my creativity.

I have finally regained my reading pace (which I also lost sometime in the early 2000) and met my target of finishing 24 books this year. I have even exceeded it and am close to doubling the number.

I have authenticated the relationships in my life ---letting go of those that harm me and those that inhibit my growth. I have made my peace with those worth keeping, and I have begun to be more nurturing of those I wish to keep and evolve. I have also reached out and forged new ones so that I may deepen and expand my own web of kindred spirits. I made choices and I made decisions on whom I want to share my life with.

I have fallen in love, then out, then in again, (all with the same person) which has certainly messed up my heart's landscape like a hurricane. But in the process I learned new lessons that I never managed to learn in my past heart stories. I am officially retired from leaping "bravely" and blindly into voids without nets, because one of the most important lesson I learned is that when it is truly meant to be, I will not be leaping alone (and Gandalf's friendly eagles will be swooping down in perfect timing to catch us). This year ends with me in love and not totally immune to imagining movie-like last-minute declarations of mutual affection.

I have gained clarity on my career and how it must complement my creative life. And making it work is probably the biggest challenge I will face in the coming year. The rebirth it brought me took me back to square one, on a different playing field, but square one nonetheless. I pray for fortitude, and bucketfuls of optimism.

I have achieved a calmness of spirit that I never could before. I will dare and say that I am even finally learning to be truly patient, and sometimes I can't help but think that the moment I grasp this one single lesson of being patient then everything else will fall into place, because all this time it has only been my stubbornness that has been keeping everything on hold. Who knows. I let go and let the Universe weave its magic and I will not utter a single question of "Is it here yet?"

Have I mentioned that I have fallen in love? Oh yes, I have. More than everything else this is the matter that dangles in front of my eyes as the year draws to a close, like a teasing mistletoe hanging in a roomful of couples where I am the only one without a partner, and the clock will soon strike twelve.

I end this post with a poem, in honor of the rebirth of my writer self, in honor of the creative spirit that dwells in me, and in honor of the love that inspired it, written for him who told me something about how love is like a dance between two people. Maybe one day I will know what it exactly means.

Happy New Year Everyone!

like ink stains

around the mango tree

I had lunch with a very dear friend today. He also used to be my boss and is a believer in the kind of research work that I do (i.e. my dayjob). At the same time he is a staunch supporter of everything else in my life. But most importantly he has become the best kind of friend anyone can ever hope to have in a lifetime.

We agreed to meet up at a bookstore by noon. He came from a meeting so he was a few minutes late, which meant that I ended up discovering and finding books. There was this blank moment and then I am suddenly in possession of three new books that I could barely afford (although they were priced quite low for a regular book).

My friend and I had lunch at a Thai restaurant called The Mango Tree. We had pomelo salad with prawns for starters, then grilled steak with thai sauce and seafood with hot basil. We were so engrossed with catching up that I totally forgot about taking a snapshot of the food. But here's a snapshot of the ever delicious Illy coffee.

I always believe that people and events come upon us when we are ready to receive the message. Something along the line of the saying that when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. For today, my friend has been the strong gust of wind that blew on my sails and helped me move forward with an optimistic heart. He shared a number of inspiring stories, particularly how the tide turned just when he thought it never would. I like that image of the tide turning, of last-minute plot twists, even a deux ex machina, a divine intervention, an explosion of magic.

Today my well of hope has been refreshed. Even when many things are still up in the air and seem to be evading resolution.

I have started re-writing my novel after letting it rest for a couple of weeks. And again I am experiencing that joy and calm that lifted me up before amidst the uncertainties and trials. Anger, despair, and fears are channeled into this creative endeavor. When nothing much is happening in real life, it helps to make things happen on the page.

On the way home I finally made myself purchase a large old dictionary with yellowing pages for a creative project that I have been wanting to do for months. I was postponing it because I thought it cost too much given my budget constraints. When I checked again today, however, the shop was on sale and the price was a third of what I thought it was.

I walked home from the mall (where the secondhand book shop was), my arms aching with the weight of the dictionary. But I treated it like a little exercise and did not mind the burning pain in my muscles as I dodged traffic and marched steadily through the varying slopes of the sidewalk.

I am now back on my writing desk, CSI: New York playing in the background, and chores lined up for the evening. It has been a good day.

random thoughts on a tuesday

I am wondering if I want to do the 10-day early morning Christmas mass from the 16th to the 25th as a kind of prayer petition. I have never done it before. Maybe I will have first-timer's luck.

I am wondering whether I will have sealed the deal on a job or a big project before the year ends. There are many prospects hanging in the air, hovering like indifferent spacecrafts sizing a planet for takeover.

I am wondering if I could exorcise this particular dream wrapped around my heart before my heart breaks from the sheer weight and heat of it. This particular dream of a hope of someone. This thing that I thought I had safely put to sleep. I am wondering if I could manage to just not care, and instead pour all that energy and fervor into something else, like an artwork or a novel.

I am wondering how much time and effort it will take to save up enough for a trip to England. My desire for it surpasses how I felt for my little pilgrimage to Athens, Georgia in 2000 (where I left a hand-bound and handwritten book of poetry at Michael Stipe's old home - yes, I'm kind of crazy that way.)

As Christmas approaches I feel less of it. For one thing, its commercial grip could find no purchase in me. My own Christmas gift list has been dictated by necessity and intensity. It is a very short list, and most of it I will make by hand, with whatever material is available. Little labors of love in little parcels, made with very little time to spare. I seem to be running out of many things - money, patience, time, hope. For everyone else I will send out good intentions and I hope I have enough of that as well.

But I am not unhappy. That is probably the unusual thing. Normally I would be unhappy given the circumstances. I am not. It is puzzling. My life hangs in a precarious balance and all I could feel is a strange stillness inside me.

I have been in a sort of daze for the past few days. As if one foot is stuck in fairyland or dreamland or some other plane of existence. I have this urge to sleep all day and stay within the safety of my bed. I seem to sleepwalk through the hours, barely able to eat, fingers itching constantly for a pen or a pencil or a keyboard. Writing grounds me a bit, makes me feel less like floating, reins in my thoughts from wandering too frequently in one direction ("She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me..." - Mr. Darcy, Pride And Prejudice, by Jane Austen)

Reading helps sometimes. But sometimes the stories pull me deeper and away. They keep me up at night,  playing with the shadows on the walls.

My dreams alternate between orderly attempts at symbolic prophecy and chaotic chases through obstacle courses. Clever distortions of my desires.

I was planning to have a dress made for a party but at the last minute I changed my mind. Instead I went through my now-meager closet and looked for something close to what I wanted (a bit Austen-era-inspired, empire cut, scooped neckline, work in a few ribbons and lace).  The dress would not matter much. But how I am while I'm in it would. At the very least it has enough sleeve to hide my heart.

My life right now is a cliffhanger. A series season-ender. A storm waiting to break.