Sand

Better now.  There’s a familiar, bittersweet sense of starting over—relief in being able to return to simple, daily activities; sorrow in seeing all my little ant-hills of effort scattered.  A collective sigh heaves out of my body.

This is the Work.  To keep coming back.  To pick up one grain of sand and start building again.

I take inspiration from the monks who build their beautiful mandalas in the sand and, when they finish, sweep them up.  The juice is in the process, not the product.

I want results.  I want to change my life.  I want.

But, wanting is tangent to the door before me.  I walk through.  I squat.  I look for the sand.  My finger reaches for a grain.  I start again.

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10 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. bipolaronfire
    Apr 20, 2013 @ 13:36:31

    Beautiful post and really illustrates what we all go through with the cycles, the endless cycles, that characterize our disease.

    Reply

  2. Littlesundog
    Apr 20, 2013 @ 20:38:56

    Beautiful words Sandy. Hang on, breathe…

    Reply

  3. Snoring Dog Studio
    Apr 21, 2013 @ 08:22:39

    This too will pass. Hold tight to the memories of getting through your darkest days.

    Reply

  4. pegoleg
    Apr 22, 2013 @ 14:06:26

    Glad you’re better. Have fun building life’s sandcastles today.

    Reply

  5. LindaNoel
    May 01, 2013 @ 12:22:52

    bipolaronfire said it like I was going to. 🙂

    Reply

  6. LindaNoel
    May 01, 2013 @ 12:26:27

    It is so very weird –and that I keep forgetting — that the memories of getting through to out-of-the-Pit are all grey, if available at all. I usually only recall the high and low points. Wasn’t so long ago that I had no idea that others — especially articulate creative others — experienced this way of being/living, too. So glad you all are here!

    Reply

    • Sandy Sue
      May 02, 2013 @ 05:40:29

      Writing about all of it, the full range of the cycles, is the only way I can remember. If I don’t record while I’m in the moment, it’s gone.

      Reply

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