So, who invited you?

Days had blurred filled with grey skies and rain that was reaching serious soaking levels that almost had me googling for the nearest distribution centre for an anorak. And no, I don't mean some weedy nerd type who is obsessed with some yawn-aching subject that deserve the attention by any stretch of the most limited imagination. Anorak, as in a waterproof jacket that most likely only comes in banana yellow or moss green. But luckily for me and my street cred, there were occasional cracks in the thick grey polyfilla in the sky so I didn't both with the added expense.

Don't get me wrong. I love the rain. And I totally adore those days when inside your head, there are visions of fitness and delight as you mentally prepare yourself for that long awaited 30 kilometre trek to the nearest bakery serving double whipped cream apple turnovers and you are mid-bend, squeezing into the drainpipe drips that are those sporty type leggings only suitable for leggy models who are yet to taste the oily delight of melted butter on the tip of the tongue when, risking a half-hearted hernia you stand to pull the last of the lacerating lycra over your bountiful buttocks and you see streaks running down the windows. You pause. Running an absent minded backhand over your brow. No, you may have struggled to get your peachiness into the sporty attire, but you ain't sweating that much. It looks like rain dear. Ah, shame.

Yup. I LOVE those days. Nothing to do but watch wetness lash against the windows, whilst you pace inside limbering up (just in case you actually do have to step outside and walk).

Just Like...

A glass of water. Yep. Life can be that simple. Clear, transparent, and serves a purpose. You can see through it and sure, somethings get magnified but generally, it is what it is. A glass of water. Nothing more and nothing less. And for the most part, it is just still. As far as I can tell from where I am sitting, which is in the almost dark open plan dining room of a rental property, it is us humans that decide how complicated we want to make our own journeys. It is more than the half-full or is it half-empty crap. I mean who has the time or inclination to argue this point? And seriously, is there really a point?

TIME...

We can’t exist without it.

It is something that marks important occasions in our lives.

It is an entity that hangs over us as we struggle to meet the conflicting demands of our everyday lives.

It is a popular word of choice when we consider problem solving.

It is something that we often give to others before ourselves.

It is something that we should take when we are tired, unwell or unsure.

It is a tool for building relationships, sharing experiences and planning for the next best thing.

TIME.

It is not something that we often use to reflect.

We should.

Time to talk.

Time to listen.

Time to teach.

Time to learn.

Time to share.

But where the hell do you get more of it? 

Voices Around My Head...

It is a curious thing when you stop to think about the world. The bigger picture stuff that makes the news (well, sometimes), the guts of life that act as a catalyst for those moral-compass type dialogues or the big questions that catch you totally off-guard when the heavy inky darkness climbs in through your bedroom window, scattering stars that burst open releasing buzzing thoughts to your now-not-so-sleepy mind.

Well, this is how it is for me.

My crazy head that should be tucked up, safe in bed dreamily drifting as I subconsciously reconcile seemingly unrelated snatches of emotional events that perforate nondescript days. But no, instead some luminous point breaks through the fog of mind-weariness, and steers me far from the lullaby-lure of sleep. And rhythmical rest is tossed aside as random thoughts blaze across my mind. And yup, I should get real here and recognise that these big and crazy thoughts are nothing more than pieces of dust, floating around in this funny little head of mine, like shooting stars leaving nothing but a trail of gas behind. But I don't. I am caught, wide eyed and wondering.  I just want to hang onto that tail and follow the bright streak to see where it goes.

And once I have stopped thrashing about in this space, I try to gain control of my mind; tie it down to something tangible, that I can reach.  And this is when all these awe-inspiring, brain-aching thoughts and probable ponders are whittled down to something that better resembles my own world. And this shrinking of mind brings into focus what really matters most.

And perhaps you like me, will get to take a good look at the tiny little piece of something familiar which you occupy.
Yes.
Your life.

And is it an important one?  Your own life; is it? And if it is, who is the judge of its importance? Is it filled with things and moments that will leave something of worth behind? Anything at all? So much effort for sure but so what? Will your thoughts, heartfelt passions and driven desires be something more than that kind of sticky transparent residue of solitary snail trails that traverse across miles and miles of land? What are those tell-tale signs that you have been here, had some impact or made some meaningful contribution to the cogs of everyday existence that, let's face it, will keep turning with or without your presence?

Well, that took a deeper turn that I expected...

So getting back to the Voices Around My Head. There are many. It's kinda like an identikit for voice detection. And when I say 'around' my head, I actually probably mean in it. I know that we all have such voices in our head but I am wondering how many.

Between the sheets...

Bet that grabbed your attention. Well, it got mine and I am the one tip-tapping this outer-manifestation of my inner-infestation of mindless thoughts swirling between layers of profundity. It's where I have been for the better part of a day. In bed. Not because I am sick, depressed, cold or hiding from the world but simply just because I can. And am.

It is part of a personal challenge, if you will. What will I learn about myself if I change some of all that I know, that I do, or that I think? It is a strange thing to consider stripping back the flimsy plastic frame of my everyday existence.  Take this away and my form perhaps functionality may be affected. I guess I am ready to be left out there bare; ready to rejuvenate somehow. I'm well aware that I can't do this in my own home. It'd be like taking off my regular clothes and dipping into someone's else dress-up cupboard. How could I possibly wake up at home and decide to spend the day in bed? Too much there that is familiar and instinctively button-pressing, well that and all the chore-worky stuff that is littered around my home. Perhaps my life even.  It is hard to ignore the metre high weeds that wave cheerily from every possible day lit crevice, the soft pillows of corner-dwelling hair balls and body building fluff behind a freestanding bath tub, the faint oily fingermarks on walls, and the piles of paper mountains... Yep. Stuff.

What I am surprised about is that it doesn't come naturally to me. Hard to reconcile this when I loathe daily routine and suffocating structure yet when I am here faced with endless possibilities, I choke. Can't quite seem to find my path. Be comfortable without this outer skin. But I so want to be here. Like this. Doing whatever I please. Just to be at one without knowing what is coming next. Bloody hell. But I struggle with this whole idea and that gets me back on a rant inside my own head space once more. Can't stand controlling people and would swear blind that I am not someone who needs to be in control but ... reading this back to myself now, and these words start to tell me a different story. But I am still the central character. Go figure.

I will let you know how I get on...