Saturday, November 25, 2006
I've gotta say, I am so tired of being in a hurry all the time. The few hours of relaxing when I get home don't seem to make up for the ten hours of panic at work. I try meditating, but the dogs make that very difficult. They, after all, have been sleeping all day, and when I get home they want to play. I can't blame them. By the time they've settled down, I can' close my eyes without nodding off.
Probably the most frustrating part about it is that I don't have the exclusive use of my brain. I have to share it with customers and orders and coordinating the activities of all the monkeys we just hired. Just one day of chiselling drops, or sanding posts, that would be marvelous. Lately my fantasies are of being a finish carpenter. Just me and my tools and a radio, alone in houses, doing the meticulous work that no one seems to want to do. After christmas I will start pursuing that goal. The possibilities in that field are much better, while at my current position, well I've run full on into that dead end. Sure, I've probably got another raise coming, but really, who cares?
So, matters of spirituality have been far from my mind. The question of prayer is still hovering around me. I'm prayer-shy, if you will, like a horse that won't walk too close to a puddle. It makes me skittish. I'm not sure why, exactly. Probably because I expect disappointment. I think that prayer, the thing that I do when I'm communicating with God, that's one thing, but there's that other kind of prayer. Like the kind when you pray that God will protect you, and you are promptly mugged. The kind of prayer that can be rejected, or turned down. These are the prayers I can't bring myself to pray. I realize that in the last while I've adopted something of a fatalist attitude. After all, if someone's going to mug me, they're going to mug me. God can't change their mind, can He?
I don't know. It's a very sensitive subject. I feel like my emotionals are all wrapped up in it. I don't want to talk about it anymore.