sumthings

I remember being up each day at 5 and getting the grind on like a real devotee, putting in the hours towards that beacon, finding the energy when it wasn’t there. I thought that was hard. Ha.
The prayer was: help us find grace when we feel we are depleted. I had tried to secularize it. What was the point of it all anyway, when the reality came in? The insidious accuser again: Drink a coffee. No. Take a nap. Recover.
I used to meditate. I’m not supposed to tell you that I meditate unless you also want to learn how to meditate. It’s one of those things. What would I face when I turn in now?
Talk 3 hours with the preacher and his wife: they love us. They tell us they love us. Everyone tells us they love us. Why do we act we don’t love ourselves?
After they left I bought more topsoil. Why did I decide to take on the dandelion garden that used to be the back lawn. The plants mutate to avoid the lawn mower. Classic Sisyphean labor when just takes one breath on one sparkling seed bulb to set off a whole new patch. It reminds me, I used to be able to stave off the regret, but now it’s just: I could have at least done something for money.