The only thing between me and my bed–where I very much want to be right now–is this post. I don’t know why it matters so much to me that I not miss a day. I’m adjusting the date/time stamp of this post (setting it back an hour) so that it registers as being the end of a very long day on the 15th of June and not the very start of the 16th (which according to clock and calendar, it is).
As I was driving home tonight I became aware of the fact that I was feeling content. I was resting within myself at ease. The thought went through my head that it was like being home.
I imagine the difference in how I felt had something to do with the people I had been with and the way we had just been sharing time and space. It had been lovely and simple to sit on their porch and have quiet conversation about nothing terribly profound, but nonetheless, meaningful. It was as though I had suddenly been inwardly aligned. The doubt and insecurity that has been plaguing me of late was gone. I was just me and it was enough.
I tend to buy into this idea that I’m prone to suffering or somehow attached to misery. Maybe there’s truth to that, I don’t really know. What I do know to be true is that it’s quite easy for me to let it go. In the right moment, given the right circumstances, it happens so naturally and so effortlessly that I don’t even notice it until after the fact. I am happy.