It’s a comfortable place to be- this space under the white sheets. I’m sure you know what I mean. A part of you wakes up, fresh, energised, ready to greet the day and you take a leap into the embrace that awaits.
It’s an invigorating moment: that first minute when you realise that everything is possible, anything is worth achieving and that the whole world will conspire to get you that which your heart desires.
Of late though, those moments are dwindling. All that pent-up energy, the moments of fragmentary explosions of joy seem to evaporate into the ether when something else strikes. It’s quiet, persistent and insidious- this poison and there’s nothing much one can do about it.
It’s just four letters long and you’d be astonished when you realise the vice-like grip it has on everything you do and anything you feel. All your enthusiasm seems powerless against its stony glare and you crumple like one of the many of Medusa’s victims.
Your list of things to do, people to meet, moments to share, seconds to savour withers away into cold nothingness when confronted by this monster.
So you do the next best thing: crawl back under the sheets and hope against hope that this will pass. It does. For a few minutes.
But when you lift the covers again, there it stands, staring you in the face. Unblinkingly.
You sigh, throw the covers off and drag yourself off the bed and look it in the eye. And you say: ‘Okay, Life. Give me your best shot. Let’s do this. Today.’
Life takes up the challenge and sucker-punches you in the gut. You double up, clutch your solar plexus, reel, but stand up again.
Your opponent grins, bows and withdraws.Just so that you can come out from under the covers.
One more time.
*A free write exercise that just had to see the light of day on the blog. Published this as a note on my Facebook page this evening.
**There will be no Soulful Sundays this weekend.