95. Summertime sadness.
As a summer baby, it feels sad to be pensive when the sun is out. Cruel, even.
I want to write that I woke up enthusiastic about my weekly writing commitment and that I’m enjoying the process.
I want to write about the day party on the terrace over the weekend and the tequila shots and the sun and the spontaneity feeling as good as it did.
I want to write about my excitement about learning of the nag hammadi gnostic texts/ the teachings of Jesus in the gospel of Thomas and how many people seem to be re-engaging with Jesus outside of contemporary Christianity. (perhaps as he would have intended)
I want to write about this creative brainwave I had last week.
I want to share something valuable and make the most of the internet while it’s free.
But I’m sad today and I needed to say that. I will revisit the above soon.
Fathers day was yesterday and that was tough; I didn’t realise how heavy the first one would be without him. Man, the feelings are complex.
What do you call that subtle, gnawing ache? There’s one that lingers real heavy.
What is grief? /ɡriːf/
[noun]
intense sorrow, especially caused by someone’s death.
When I give myself permission to feel the fullness of my feelings, I am so much more whole on the other side of it, and isn’t that what this is all about anyway? To be whole. When the joy does come again in the morning it will be succulent, magnetic and most importantly: REAL.
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