"You've been in a bit of a rut...with not working and putting your life on hold. I think anything outside of your comfort zone is good for you right now...", M said as we walked to lunch the other day.
I hadn't recognized it as a rut until he said the words, but instantly I knew he was right. The general funk and stagnation that has been a constant since we moved west June 2010, is an insidious beast. Trickling in, like the vapors that you'd find in an animated film or cartoon, a lurid dance that beckons wickedly because there's no names, it just is.
I've created as much control, (and safety), as possible over the past months. There's routine and monotony that I rely upon, even with my wanderlust to explore Los Angeles. It's a constant desire to run the beaten tracks because then I'm never venturing far: controlled control.
A numb shadow hovers around me and while I find joy in life, (truly), there's sharp and prickly bits that just won't abate. An inability to endure any bullshit or phony la la la, yet it's my own myopic barometer that has me deciding what is bullshit and what isn't. Surely one-sided, always full of snark.
Next week I'm looking forward to stepping outside of my world and into nature; a respite from all of this routine along the coast with gentle friends.
