I often feel as if much of what I spend my time doing isn’t what I really want to be doing.
Much of the rest of my time I spend trying to quiet my mind and the space around me so that the words can grow that will tell me what to do next, that will tell me how I (am supposed to) feel.
When I manage to quiet my mind and the space enough, I find that all I really want is silence.
This is ironic, because I am a woman of many words.
Maybe I’ve used them all up. But I doubt it.