“…notes of a…” [short story]

I’ve been in this place for a while now. It is a great experience, truly. To be supported in sense of place of living, in sense of food, at times with some conversational prowess. It is indeed a very interesting experience.

I’ve been wishing to be somewhere supported, so I could work. So I could create, write books, to not feel pressured. Though… Although all that is exactly like so, I still am with self in some sense. So I am the one worried. Even though reassured that there is no pressure, no need to panic, no need to rush and charge headfirst, even though a person here is understanding, supportive in own sense, here to be.

But (as there is one that creeps up on one), I have the inside feeling of sure – there is support, but I’d love to have a conversation. A conversation where I could express what’s bugging me, bounce ideas back and forth, come up with something new, but for some reason that is the only thing that’s lacking. A conversation. Emotional support.

So here we are – so well looked after, but emotionally unfulfilled. Well, partially there with own strength and prowess, but not that I can keep on chatting with self. Not in these kinds of quantities of conversations with self.

And then what?

October rolls in with its great spiritual whizz, making some changes that were quite unexpected. Making me feel quite unexpectedly expected. Like it was not even surprising.

You see, having so many conversations with own self make you end up in a bit of a thought that you just – just are, just become so numb, so much there to be unfazed at anything that it’s odd. Like, you observe it all like you would a sunrise. Each dew on the petals, leaves, the mud, the chill, the fog and the bog, the way it all awakes. And you just watch.

That is what it feels like – absolutely there. Just watching, inner knowing and absolutely not surprised. Like all was meant to be this way.

Maybe it’s a bit foggy, maybe the vision right now is about a few meters ahead. But I just know how the goal looks like.

And at times, it feels like the heart is very much in the hearth, softly crackling with the fire, with the wood that was thrown in.
Soft warmth that’s inside, that’s just mulling… Eventually sometimes the warmth blooms like a fine flower, reminding that there is more to all. Besides all the numb stillness… There’s nurturing love.

Processed with VSCO with a6 preset taken from pinterest