When will I rest?
I have subscribed to the adage that I’ll sleep when I’m dead for many years now, but honestly the bed has been tugging me for a while. Between moving yet again this month, traveling to San Francisco for an in-depth seminar on facilitating race dialogue, working on a research project, and being the mother of a 4-year-old – rest/sleep/down-time has not come easy.
Last night, friends came over and we went to grab a drink nearby because I had run out of tonic, but the drink turned out to be more than one and the bar snacks turned out to be a trough of food that now conjures up nightmares of excess. And no, wait there’s more, I came home at midnight ready to tuck in “late” and had another friend visit who didn’t leave until 2 am. No rest for the weary.
This morning I woke to the sounds of an almost hurricane and forced myself to get up for Zumba only to learn once I had taken my first sip of coffee that the class had been cancelled due to weather. Which of course, gave me time to work on a post, I had been thinking about from last night.
But I want to go back to that moment last night when my eyes were rolling back in my head and my friend was talking about the push pull of romantic desire — I want to find out why each time the struggle was mentioned my right eye would pop open for a moment and then I’d be lulled back into the dreamy state wherein I believe that matters of the heart get figured out on their own no matter how much thought and intention any of us put into it.
I truly want to rest from trying to figure it all out – right now.