of? why do i hold on to that slip of paper, that shirt, that pen, that ball of yarn, those books, those journals, the climbing gear, the shoes?
am i that stuck in my ways that i can’t just let go? what am i so afraid of?
twenty-two minutes to midnight…i haven’t sat for my evening meditation yet either.
time for a poem and a quick meditation before it’s tomorrow.
then stopping myself and reminding myself that no hurry was necessary.
on the way to pick her up.
what is wrong with simply slowing down and enjoying this life?
why does each moment have to be a race to the next thing?
that it feels threatening to let 