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Today… gone fishin’.

May 1, 2012

One of the big bummers about being self-employed is the lack of paid time off, which means (in a great cosmic shaker of salt in the wound) that this week is packed with clients so I can make up income for my week off TO DO PAPERWORK DRUDGERY last week. Ah well. So it’s busy… survivable, but I can always tell when my schedule is on the edge of being too full with clients because my dreams at night are tiring and vivid and fraught. Too much emotion absorbed, drain gets a bit clogged. Or something like that.

For example, I am seeing someone today who is really, really shocked and sad. Life has dealt them a series of blows, and they struggle (sometimes with more grace than I think I would be able to muster were I in their shoes) to make sense of it, often wanting to give up, often not sure what it all means or how to find any positives. I ran across this poem fragment recently and am giving them a copy:

After each day falls/inside each night

There exists a well where clarity is imprisoned.

We need to sit on the rim of the well of darkness

And fish for fallen light with patience.

-Pablo Neruda

POSTSCRIPT: As I was sitting at the kitchen table, all thoughtful and quiet and quoting Neruda, I heard Bobo’s feet coming down the stairs. Out of curiosity, I looked at the clock on the stove. Sure enough, 2 minutes and 20 seconds later I had either initiated or responded to conversation about homework, poop, and Legos, had defined the term “on the line” (it was a question), and had offered a concise opinion about why Nutella is neither a fruit nor a vegetable.


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