When what’s good for me becomes just one more thing to do, and I am no longer one of my own priorities.
No amount of candle lighting or journal writing can recenter the weight.There’s only the passage of time, hope for a good night’s sleep, and the certain knowledge this time too shall pass.
In the meantime, there are negotiations. Trades. This for that. Time borrowed here and spent there. Adjustments.
And the truth is, imbalance is just as unsustainable as balance.
Because there arrives a day when the pressure subsides. Responsibilities lift. Check marks ink all the to-be-dones as done. And I wonder what all the fuss was about.
Hope emerges from underneath the pile on the desk.
I turn a new page in the journal, flip the calendar to April, and finally choose to pack the camera after all.
I breathe in. Exhale. And smile.
Every little thing’s gonna be alright.*
Thanks to Bob Marley for the reminder.