Hello dear blog,
How I have neglected thee. Autumn is upon us and I have not yet posted of its awakening. Children are growing in leaps and bounds and life is a many splendoured thing.
I can plead tiredness, without a hint of guilt. I *am* tired, and I have been working hard. I can plead lack of time, because every hour is crossed and crowded with things. But I miss writing. I miss thinking of things to write. I think perhaps I need to do another nablopomo.
I haven't yet written of the fact that I picked up my charcoal again, and fumbled it around in clumsy fingers. I haven't yet written of the way the Possum looks when he devours chocolate cake or cruises around the furniture. I haven't yet written of the way the cooler autumn mornings stir my belly.
I want to, but it's not forefront of my mind. I've lost my muse.
But I've been dream chasing, Gleam dancing. Overthinking and blissfully not thinking. Exploring subspace and vibrating with oscillating strings that pull me into alternate dimensions.
But I've also been missing something, my grounding. I've been floating, drifting, experiencing, but not truly breathing.
And breathing is very good for you.