The Sandbox

Amnesia, Art, Healing


9:17AM EST


Yesterday…filled with business…a need for resolution before my parents’ death.

It’s hard stuff, balancing this staying in the moment knowing acutely how few moments are left, an eye on that hour glass that’s nearly drained of sand. 


How is the sadness that has loomed?


It’s better. I realize it’s been about loneliness—echoes from long ago but also the way I’d constructed my life too. And when this became clear I began to do things about it that made me feel differently. 

I joined a writing group. 

I am taking a shift at the studio. 

I am looking for connection—but meaningful connection that surrounds things that are deeply meaningful to me. 

It may work—or not—or somewhere in between. But I feel this is the right general direction for me. 


That’s all we can ask, right? 


I think so. 


What else?


I dreamed last night that I was in session with Eileen. I could tell she had not heard yet from the Board. And I sat, silently, debating in my head if I should tell her. More dreams too about art, where I am pounded into nothingness it seems. It’s been days like this, these dreams about my lack of competitiveness in the art world, how I am nothing. 

It’s odd to feel this way—like what is this about? 


We do not know nor do we really want to know and nor do we deeply care how we stack up. But as we begin to open up, we can see how much further we can ourselves travel as we absorb the beauty and talent and accomplishments of others. 


Open eyes, open heart

We feel kinda different

A new kind of start.

We used to be running

Towards and away

But things are slowing down

We can sit now, we can stay. 


No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself.