Homeostasis
There seems to be so much to unsettle.
‘Home’ and where to be, where ‘feels right’, what that might be like, how do we work it out?
Mum and dad’s and all that throws up.
Here, where I live and work, where we lived our married life together. Not my home though, so always with an element of insecurity but I love it ... especially when it’s quiet as it is this week.
And today, the ongoing anxiety and stress of the camper. She needs welding and the guy looked at me as if to say I can get her through this bit for the MOT, but ....
And then, looking at HHY2 (hermit home of the year, take 2).

And then there’s the whole business of being off work.
Desperate for a break and then crumbling under the conflicting stuff...stuff, bloody stuff.
Here, and rest. Be still.
But it’s hard to be still when turbulent at conscious and deeply unconscious levels.
Here and ‘do a thorough sort out’.
But it would kill me.
Here, and a bit of this and that (roughly what I’ve ended up doing... a sort of soft brexit in a way, I suppose).
But it’s frustrating, I ‘should’ be doing this and that or trying to find ‘something’ I don’t know what, but I should be trying to find it anyway.
There. More sorting; but my sister has made it feel less safe and I think I wanted time off. The last two weeks of holiday (Christmas and early Feb) were spent there.
Yet I feel I should make the most of it. This time next year it may be gone. But then, who knows where we’ll be then.
Elsewhere...if I were more organised and motivated I’d have gone to visit friends south, stepdaughter, or north to Scotland.
Maybe a little explore and an adventure.
But the energy and motivation get tangled and knotted and dissipate in the mire, the indecision, the conflict of stuff, bloody stuff.
And then, in the end, there’s the just wanting to be. The exhaustion. Wanting to stop. Wanting to keep absolutely quiet because in a nanosecond work will be back again.

So, today, a beautiful gorgeous day. The camper verdict but he can’t take it until at least next week. I’d put things (assuming I might have made a choice from the above!) on hold to get this verdict which was dispensed and I was home by 9.30. So what to do. I could go somewhere lovely, it’s quiet at this time of year before Easter. I could go ....you get the idea...

In the end, I stayed. I forced myself onto my bike and cycled up hill, crying all the way.
But then, it was beautiful. When I stopped for tea and a rest I read Oliver Sachs, the chapter about consciousness and what we bring to each and every perception. Each is uniquely ours with what we bring to it and what we construct.

I can never look at a tree like this without seeing the lungs of each of them and crying for their lungs that struggled to breathe all the air that filled the space all around them. I see their beautiful faces, their sparkly eyes, looking at me lovingly, and their damaged lungs failing and dying.
I feel glad that they are all around me breathing freely.