Sunday, September 25, 2011

Journal 64 The Witching Hour

When I face the witching hour, the time of the day where I have trouble envisioning a future with hope, I need tools.

Lately one of those things is, predictably, a list. A list of things, random though they may be, of feelings and experiences that help stave off anxiety.
It's taken alot lately, since being back from vacation, from that cocoon of safety, despite the high anxiety I had during the drive.

Without further ado.
I will list:

1. Taking random photos as I walk downtown, or, in the case of yesterday, in the 'burbs hanging out at the park with my niece and nephew, checking out the fall colours, and picking leaves off the ground, red, yellow, orange.

2. Unpacking things. Laundry. Cleaning. Chores of any kind that promote orderliness and tidiness. That helps me find things that are missing. (still no sign of the pink running top. Found the white one).

3. Reading. A new book, or one that I'm already deep into. But opening the book to that first page, the first time, or going back to the book I'm reading already. Nothing quite compares to those moments. I open the book, a book, that book. And then...I'm gone.

4. Same thing with running. That magic moment--it doesn't always happen. But when it does, I'm gone again, somewhere safe, with no worry. And I love each second that I'm away.

5. Faith. The feeling that someone, somewhere, is propelling things along. That I don't have to do everything myself.

6. Thinking about sleep. And how restful and restorative it can be when I let it. That moment, just like opening the book, or passing the 10 km mark. Falling away.

7. Looking at the city with detachment. Trying not to hate rude drivers and meandering pedestrians, and just feel warmth in this cold, cold city.

8. Cooking. Not following a recipe.

9. Magazines, including trash like Hello. Easy to lose myself in the flurry of royal weddings and unhappy rich people (because they are unhappy you know. They are).

10. Pajamas. As in wearing them at all times when I'm home. Hair up, 4 inches shorter, ponytail swinging post-run, post-tan.

11. Nail-painting.

12. Organizing. Putting my books and cards in piles, and thinking about what to read next.

13. Trying to observe the passage of time without terror of the future, of the changing of seasons, looking forward to Thanksgiving, to fall, to the next chapter.

Nothing different than any other time. I still don't have any idea what the future holds, no matter how hard I try to peer into the window of what's coming next.

So I just work on taming the witching hour.

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