Before you read further, I wanted to first say how wonderful it was to get your comments and emails on my sudden return. I am so grateful, and frankly humbled.
I expected nothing but crickets!
So, now please pardon the whiny intro to this post!
I have been vexed.
I am haunted by something that nibbles at the edges of my consciousness like an itch.
I find myself both merely and profoundly dissatisfied.
This is a crisis.
I lack absolutely nothing.
In fact, acquisition has lately only added to my distress.
Even the treasure hunting at the beloved thrift store often brings more anxiety than pleasure.
If it is not something truly missing, it must be a crisis of imagination!
I am fictitiously dissatisfied!
My dissatisfaction becomes most apparent when it suddenly dissipates;
When it transforms into satisfaction.
Like it does when I forage for blackberries, and they fill my bowl like gorgeous black gems.
Like it does when I fill my basket at the farmer's market with salad scattered with flower petals, and tomatoes, and hearty long stemmed sunflowers.
Like it does when I press in a perfectly piped seam.
Like it does when I hear the pop of the jarlids after canning a batch of organic tomato sauce.
Like it does when an unruly bunch of weedy earth is transformed by digging and scratching back into the flower bed it was supposed to be in the first place.
These are the things that fill my heart with satisfaction...
If only they weren't so solitary.
The work is good, but the lack of co-workers gets a bit lonely.
Is that why we all congregate in blogland?
So, friends, tell me...