last night, tonight, today

right now i'd give just about anything to be in this room. i think this means i'm overstimulated --- by work, life, self. i've been going at a gazelle's pace lately and while it's rewarding to finally feel like my days are full and bright again, i find myself overwhelmed. am i balking at the fact that all the work i've put into rebuilding my world is actually returning to me (even more magnificently, as Rilke promised)? or am i just exhausted at the work i've put in?

i'm not sure, but what i do know is that for me to desire immersion in a room that's essentially absent of color is strange. this place looks so serene to me, right down to the flats at the foot of the bed. thanks to this place, this space of solace is only a daydream away.

i've been trying to get to bed at a decent time against all natural nocturnal inclinations within me. i really have. but who wouldn't find herself wide awake after such a night:

• dinner with a friend: rice, black beans, red peppers, onions, salsa, sour cream, sharp cheddar, tortilla chips, overripe peach slices and squares of rich chocolate
• a quiet, somber, and soul quenching Anglican midweek service
• being embraced during the Peace
  
• an evening walk amongst the fireflies and enormous suburban raccoons
• playing Debussy (yes, with my own two hands) in the bedroom
• laughing in the dishwater
• 2 phone calls at 11 p.m.

darn. reversal of nocturnal tendencies sabotaged by a suddenly rich life.
i will not lament or argue. i think it's time to receive, after having every-
thing i held closely torn from my arms.

thank you Rilke, for your wisdom.
thank you heavens, for seeing i couldn't take much more.
thank you self, for being stronger than i knew.
thank you past, present, and future, for the arresting mystery,
the slow healing, the longsuffering moon, the cool night,
the blinking firefly who says, here. here. here.

i see you. i know you.
i love you, and i
am waiting.