Some mornings I feel like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day, waking up to the same morning day in and day out. The unchanging greyness frightens me in the first moment of wakefulness. Have you ever experienced that?
The thing not to do is to dawdle in bed, but I do. The greyness holds me there. I am unwilling to touch the cold floor of reality and face the day. I’ve been here before many times. I know that the moment my feet hit the ground, the feeling will dissipate. No, it does not magically evaporate. I have to assist its departure. How?
Getting out of bed is the first hurtle. The rest follows: I get up, dress up and show up at my desk. I put one letter, one word….any letter, any word and start. Things happen when you move. That is the law of life. It is not rocket science, as they say. Don’t you just hate cliches? I’m past the hurtles and I am sitting here, tap, tapping out the words. I hope for magic today. I want to feel the words tumbling off my fingertips like water rippling over the rocks in the river. The sound of the keyboard is music to my ears. I see the stream of words floating gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily life is but a dream.
I’m rowing my own boat, steering, pushing it towards my destination. You have to have a little bit of oomph to get over rough spots. The weather changes and the water can get rough. A life jacket is a must. A rope or two can be useful. You can never tell. It’s best to have some tools on hand.
The weather has changed. The sky is steely grey. I feel the ghost tiptoeing on my grave. It is alright. I am well acquainted with him. He cannot hurt me. I breathe and drop the other shoe. There are no explosions of catastrophe. The quietness of a Saturday morning presides.
I am safe in my home, in my own skin. I am the captain of my spirit. I get to change the direction in which I travel. The sky is grey. Autumn leaves of orange and gold are floating past my window. They are whispering and teasing me with their graceful dancing movements.
“Come with us. Come with us”.
Perhaps today would be a good day to explore – to travel down Alice’s rabbit hole. Would I find her Wonderland?
I stepped inside the book yesterday just for 15 minutes. I fell down the tunnel with Alice and landed on top of a bundle of twigs and leaves. We chased after the white rabbit and came to a hall full of locked doors.
We found a magic key that opened a door. We still could not get in, of course. It’s not that simple. If it was, that would be the end of the story. There would be no Alice in Wonderland. Life is like that too. It has many corridors with many locked doors, all posessing different codes. You need the right combination to unlock each.
I had to leave Alice swimming in the puddle of her tears, wondering how she was going to get into that Wonderland. I will find another 15 minutes to be with her today. It is an intriguing story. It has grabbed the child in me. That’s what good stories do. I’m learning the process.