Well fall has gripped me, with a chill that is unmistakable. Smoking a clove lying out on my back porch looking at the veiled moonlight I feel more and more like Emily Dickenson, save I am not a shut in, and my lap top is my pen and papers. Still I feel somewhat as if I am locked away in a far off attic watching life move around me. The delicious darkness that is winter spreads its Eire blanket over me, and I am ready to open Arsenic and Old lace.
I am having I suppose a moment of weakness. I am very comfortable right now, but I wonder what is ahead of me. Where is my career going? I am thankful for the business I have, and yet, a voice inside me says, Michael what will you be doing in two years. Should I be moving, should I be looking harder, should I relax and travel with what I have?
Also I am pining, I suppose that is all I will say on that matter, but the waters of my life although from the outside appear peaceful and glass like are filled with rouge waves, and uncharted expanses. I suppose tho, that this is the fun in life’s journey. The unknowing, the uncertainties, the surprises, and the bouts of survey.
Truly in the end or in a week, I will be peaceful again, happy with the blessings with which I have.
Perhaps I need a week away from New England.