Resting

I don't own a comfortable chair.

...something is unsettling about becoming settled.

"no rest for the weary" meets "idle hands," and all the bad lot that follows.

I have always run along a timeline. Able to see the hourglass sands finding their way to gravities desires and not complacent in its calling my name aloud. Running so fast the destination is as obscure and fleeting as the journey. The days fly by as the clock with its unyielding and unforgiving schedule gets fatter, fuller, and more demanding. Most days I wake up on Monday only to find it Thursday afternoon. 

While I don't have a soft inviting chair, I do have a cloudy resplendent bed. It is the only place I go to rest. The rest is, well, kinetic chaos to complete a task list that includes peaceful compassion to allow every living thing to flourish. I don't seek accomplishments only a dreamers canvas. There has to be sleep even in the obsequious near absence of relaxation.

Wally. Cats and hair ties.. 

Over the top is what best describes it. Over the top is what describes it all. Every last moment is so full I cannot ever look back with regret or remorse. I filled every day with all of it. Every intention to be as full as it could be. Ask hard questions, look for challenging answers. Never walk away from someone or something you can help with. Push so hard there is just a wall that reminds you this is the end. Doesn't everyone want their end to be simply because there was no gas left in the tank?

Maybe being a veterinarian, the profession with the highest suicide rate, the most compelling reasons for death, is exactly the place to know how fragile it all is. Maybe seeing the reflection of your own soul in the eyes of every other soul that comes to you is the best mirror. Maybe this life was meant to be so full of need that you didn't have time to ask yourself if you ever needed the bullshit that floods social media. Maybe the billionaires seeking more stuff are so lost the clutter is a way to fill a hole that just gets bigger from indifference? Maybe the secret to life is living it in all of its hardship while you make the moment last just a little longer than everyone else can by giving it all away.

Perla, pyometra

I'm not wishing for anything other than what I have. I wouldn't do a single second of it any differently. I am, however, looking for a more peaceful plod through it all. A way to be grateful, purposeful, and feel alive. I don't want to go back, do it over. Find the pieces easier the next time, but it would be appreciated to not feel so worn out by Friday. There is the key I am missing as I chase the sands through the bottle neck to settle in the shore of time.