Tuesday, March 29, 2011
There are days where I just wish I could be here again, standing on the beach, looking out across the water, my mind alive with thoughts of the Marconi station sliding into the sea.
There was a boat. A few seals. The beach. The wind, sliding over the salt water and ruffling my hair.
A simple moment where I didn't have to worry about anything else.
I have been gnawing on a worry bone for the last two days, going around in circles over a single thing, a little thing, something that might not have meant what I think it meant. It seems like it should be so easy to stop, to imagine that I am instead watching the waves roll in while the sun shines and the grass undulates. But instead I am rotating around this ugly old worry bone, locked in place like a binary star system. It's one of my oldest and deepest worries, and I know its every crease and furrow, but it still surprises me sometimes when it rears its dark head.
I think it's time for some mental regrouping, time to rearrange my inner mind and see if I can bring out some self-confidence that springs from, well, myself.