Yet it is a joy stacked on joy when I do sit down, surround myself in stillness, then interrupt with keys tapping.
5 minutes. Free thought. Sometimes incomplete, but always the beginning of something great. For that is what all writing is. The start of something grand, no matter it’s scope.
Don’t forget to come over, set the timer, and link up yourself.
The starch stiff comportment
icy trails of wake.
When others decide – you are not one desirable of continuing to know.
For whatever reason in whichever timing it is a decision crisp enough to send me squealing “ENOUGH!”
I’ve had enough of the condescension, scrutiny, belittling.
Doesn’t “eeny, meeny, miney mo” stop in grade school?
Still….we as a human race are incomparably flawed. And no one is outside the jurisdiction of hurting another, or being hurt in turn.
And not you.
Thus, when I’m able a moment of clarity amidst the ache of such experiences, I know that when I say “enough”, I don’t really mean it.
Because I can’t truly have enough of people.
As deep the wounds, as fresh the sores, as multiple the scars – – I cherish fellowship. I welcome memories of all, for I grow inches and feet by the lessons learned.
And because my God is a God of beauty-in-ashes, it is all for the best.
Plus…did I mention I, too, am of the human race? I fail. I squint through murky glasses at times. My thoughts are not always of a pure heart.
So enough isn’t really so.
It is only a measuring tool for when to pour out the dingy at the feet of the Washer, and come back empty yet clean, that I may gather more. He gives me room and supplies to do so.