It's Monday. Doesn't feel like it, but there you go. In fact, most days haven't been feeling like they 'normally' would.
Last week it wasn't until 4 pm that I finally realized it was Saturday. I'd been operating as though it was a Wednesday. Not that there's much difference in days of the week for me, but still, it's a mind snap.
In the last 2 ½ weeks, I've written three separate emails to you. Three. And I deleted each one. Which explains why you never got them. 🤦♀️
Each one was perfectly good. I shared, I compared, I elevated. You know. But I never hit the send button.
We're in transition days right now. All of us. We see the turn in the road up ahead. But it looks closer than it really is. That ole illusion of time and space.
Everyone is waiting for something different, for something to happen. A vaccine? 2 of them? Summer? A booked trip? A garden, fully planted? To have company? To know what the next step will be?
The in-between state is icky, uncomfortable. At least to many of those I talk to. That's because in-between doesn't feel like a destiny. It feels incomplete. Undone.
But you know what? In-between here and there is real. You're living it. So am I. And you've been here before.
You were in-between.
In-between is a place. It has an address. You can actually live there for a while. Just not too long.
When you live there too long, you get a bit lost. You think Saturday is Wednesday. You hesitate and delete.
Know what I mean?
Sure you do.
I spent the morning in my garden greenhouse today. To ground myself. Literally. In fact, I may spend more time than usual planting and tending to all growing things in the next while. They're in transition too. From seed to plant. And they're not in a hurry. They're pacing themselves. I expect their vibe will soothe me just fine.
Address: the greenhouse
PS) You can also find me hanging out on Instagram twice a day every day - mostly because I don't know the days of the week.
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