Morning Meditations on Monday.


I took the weekend off even though in two days I will be taking two weeks off. I simply needed it. I was tired and needed to recharge. I have been working the past month every single day, not a day off, with an average of eighteen hours a day of actual work. But this weekend even with vacation on the near horizon…I just had to stop.

For one thing, during my vacation time, J will be home and so my vacation will not be in solitude and lord knows I love him but lord knows I love my peace,privacy, and quiet, as well.
We won’t discuss which I would choose if the choice had to be made.

Every time he is due home I get this excited to see him schoolgirl giddiness, and have craved him deeply for the last month, and yet this anticipation of my little bubble of seclusion soon to be invaded feeling at the same time. Sometimes being a Libra is more of a tug-of-war than a balance of scales.

My loft has this quiet. This stillness that I love. That I seek. that I crave. That I am wrapped into like a hug. It is my refuge, my haven, my sanctuary. It’s hard being a person who enjoys reclusion. My adjustment to his home-coming is never the few days after he is here…no, that is instant comfort. For me it is only the few days prior in which I know this is the last of my quiet and my little bubble, my very own space.

But at the same time, such as this past weekend, I am tired, I am at the end of my work, and I am in lack of oxygen and needing to break the surface. Sometimes a body shuts down and needs rest. As well as balancing out the weights of life from isolation to feeding my mind body and soul of anothers mind, conversation, the sound of their voice and sites …that life out there that I’ve nearly forgotten.

When I want to be social I am never really the kind of social to call people but rather just…go and see what happens. Randomly meet up with friends and even make new ones for a day at least. I will swirl and whirl in a crowd, dancing, or at a concert, or a museum or a walk in the down town rush, lunch or coffee with a friend or few, or whatever it may be as long as socializing and people watching not by myself are done (though I also do the by-myself version from time to time.)

I am one who never likes to be the center of the crowd. I am not the loud, never the obnoxious, and don’t make the clown of the crowd, though I always enjoy that person from the sidelines. And I am one to slip out quietly, suddenly vanished.

I don’t have friends over in my home very often. I love the idea of entertaining. I always wish I was that type of hostess but then I have this inner of war of ‘welcome into my home…but hurry up and get out I want to be alone and for you to stop touching my things.’ I am very Dirty Dancing scene in life…the ‘my space your space’ scene. I connected to that scene through my entire life.

J and I work the same schedule. We adjusted to this with ease since mine is flexible and it is exactly how I like to work…throw myself in fully…gliding under the surface of my work, completely submerged until toward the end of the month I feel that sudden rush and need of racing for the now too far away surface in need of a deep fresh breath of oxygen.

Then I rest hard, play hard, for just enough time in which by the end of those two weeks in my last three days, J often finds my head gone in a fog, a glaze over my eye’s and even not hearing a word he says as if I am suddenly not there at all, or perhaps he, and drifting with my coffee cup in hand, rather than back to bed, over to my desk…just…ready to dive back in. He smiles at these times…and stays in his quiet way, leaving me to be in my own way, knowing where I am going not only physically but in my mind.

He works away for a month at a time and this allows me not to worry about anybody else. There is no entertaining. No cooking for two. No stopping to eat when he cooks if I am not ready to yet eat. There is no voice that interrupts into the dialog in my head and there is nobody else to interrupt the rhythm that I get into.

If he were here the entire month and I tried to actually work I would likely keep a pile of vases next to my feet for which to throw on occasion of interruption. He may understand me but lord god men are needy. Or perhaps he is just human and in those times of my work-fog I am nearly not.

And If I ever heard the words “Are you hungry?” or “Are you about ready to call it a day?” or some such words that during vacation are fine but during my work would get the look of complete and utter nonsense from me. I would likely in face set in stone get up quietly and pack a suitcase and set it outside the door…of his…and return to sit back to my work without a word said.

These things he knows. But he is human and interruptions would happen and thus our life style as it is works so well.

It always takes me a few days to then adjust back after he has walked out the door when he leaves back for his work. In one way I am ready to give my work my full attention that it has begun asking for…tugging at the hem of my skirt like a toddler begging for it.

But in the other hand, suddenly the loft is much too quiet. Too still. And he is gone. It takes a few days to enjoy that stillness and embrace that silence that I will cherish once again. Such a shock to the system it comes for me.

But other than a few days of needing to adjust either way this works best for both of us individually…and for us together. For one, it is good to give each other time to miss one another. I sometimes wonder how many relationships would be saved if they just were given that space to miss and each person give the space to be in their own solitude from time to time. For two, It gives me the time needed to focus fully on my work.

During my weekend of rest I enjoyed pizza, international movies, and my books. I am currently reading, for the second time, Dogs With Bagels, among a few others I am reading a line from here and there…and my stack of backed up magazines. Oy…even in rest….


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