Mweh

In the evening

It’s just gone six but it’s so dark outside it could easily be midnight. I am staring at the flames in the wood burner, cat on lap, listening to the wood crackle. There is a soft background wheezing of dogs snoring. Stella and Jess are knocked out.

The puppies are still playing in the backyard, running off the emerge renewed by half a tin of puppy pate. We still need two more pee and poop rounds before bedtime.

The time between dinner and last calls for wee wee has become a bit of a Bermuda Triangle.

Any last chores I had in mind, notes I wanted to check or papers I wanted to read (can’t give you a reasonable motivation but I am currently traveling around the globe discovering the symbolic meaning of trees through a series of academic papers), all faded and vanish. I can’t even be bothered to turn on the tv as that requires deciding what to watch.

I read today’s text from Eileen Caddy. It’s about love. I still can’t fathom how it was possible to have a Dutch copy of opening the doors within for eight years without knowing I had it, let alone read it.

I found it in a storage box when sorting through the mess of yet another burglary (if scovel shinn is right about there being no loss in divine mind and everything that belongs to me always returning to me either nothing ever really belonged to me, or God now owes me over 100.000 euros).

By the time I found the book I had been joining the Findhorn meditations for four months.

These little synchronicities normally thrill me. Today I am more like, mweh.

It’s been a bit of a mweh day overall. Despite the beautiful weather and my furry companions. Two things that make me smile no matter how mweh I am feeling.

But I have spent two days catching up on cleaning and tidying, because the backlog of a week spent putting all my energy towards not panicking about my tooth / infection situation was staring me in the face rather accusingly: you negligent no good human.

I would like to think of myself as a conscientious and good human. But apparently that is not expressed every day through proper housekeeping. And my inner critic has no qualms about flogging me with it.

Things got on top of me and it took many cups of coffee and deep breaths to dig me out.

I caught myself thinking several times today : I don’t know how long I can hold on.

Not knowing exactly what it is I am holding on to (the last straw maybe?) nor what would happen if I let go.

Will I wash down a river? Plummet into free fall?

I am fucked off with feeling alone. Doing alone. Eating alone. Even sleeping alone (no the naps I take next to Stella don’t count).

My best relationships are currently all digital as none of my loved ones live nearby. I long for company with a degree of desperation that even drove me to post on an expat facebook page (I temporarily joined Facebook to find homes for the puppies) “looking for a puppy date”.

I thought I would catch two birds with one stone: socialisaton for both me and the puppies.

No response.

To pull myself out of this little swamp I tell myself: “accepting the situation what can this situation offer me?”

Again, not sure what this thought is meant to lead to, same as the holding on bit. But it feels as getting a little closer to something “useful”

What can this lonely bubble time do for me, instead of constantly feeling it’s the universe conspiring against me?

I know it’s not about spending most of my time retracing my steps, trying to remember where I left my phone/keys/wallet/coffee mug, and where my life went soooooo wildly off track…