I am thinking about thinking. There is so much going on in my life right now, and I’m having a hard time categorizing it all, sorting it, storing it, analyzing it, expressing it……I read somewhere today that depression, exhaustion and anxiety are not things to be ashamed of, but a sign of taking on too much for too long. All of us creative folk have our own brand of “crazy” I suppose, but how do you know when you have taken on “too much”?
As some close family members age, my kids grow older, my body changes, my thoughts morph. I find pleasure in the strangest things: warm dogs, completed homework projects, clean kitchens, clean kids.
Where will life take me? I visited my 88 year old grandmother today, always a treat. Not only is she a delightful lady but she has so many wonderful stories about her life. As she reaches the end of it I wonder what she thinks about? Does she still dream and plan?
Will I always have this mental drive that feels like a hamster on a treadmill that never takes a break? Will I ever be able to just sit and look at a sunset without feeling driven to DO something about it? Write about it? Draw it? Research it?
What is it like to sit. Quiet. With no thought. Even when I try not to think, I think about not thinking. Then the flood gates open: should we relocate? How much farther should I take my education? Should I blog or write for suite? Should I journal? Should I crochet? Maybe I’ll just do some laundry.
The floor, I could always sweep the floor.
Why does this mental ping pong game continue for hours upon end? If I could see inside my brain I imagine it would like a party, with synapses and dendrites doing the hokey pokey, singing karaoke, learning the rumba, playing scrabble, scramble and words with friends and eating hot wings dipped in ranch. Forever.