such is life. waking up with my bed in a different place feeling the cold fingers of the valley breeze through my window and the feeling sinks in again that I have done nothing, will be nothing, and nothing is all there is. like the breeze the feelings ebb and flow and later in the day I worry about another beside myself as I drive hearing air pushed through the vents and a slight whining sound whirr whirr as I think about the forming wrinkles in my face and shift first, second, third…tasks done so many times they begin to become like situations in life—another relationship lost, another opportunity missed, another day of regret. It is not all lost and it is not all shadows but the permanent feeling is the one of being in a dream where nothing is quite real. Symptom of disassociation. Pushing away, moving away, happiness like purple and blue flowers in a mountain meadow or tulips in spring, poppies in August. All in its own cycle with its own branches and veins and systems of life. such is the space that we inhabit and time to settle in for good and take joy in waking up in a bed, in a home, with people-mirrors all around.