Progress.

I am obsessed with progress.
I can’t get enough.
I never feel enough, and it is getting so bad, that I feel guilty enjoying anything that can’t be explained as an effort towards some GREATER GOAL.

I have the damnest time knowing how to just be.
How to sink my feet into the sand and let the grains of my life move aimlessly between my toes.

I know how to have, to do, to gain.
I know how to feel unworthy, and labor after a bigger sense of me.
But in the end, I have no clue how to fill my own shoes.
How to delight in the big that I already am.

When I am not having, or doing, or gaining, I feel that I am Failing. Flailing. Falling.
And so I constantly compare myself to the myself that I think I should be, and the yourself that I think you are, and I know that I have missed out on us both.

I rarely have time to enjoy the life that I am, the moment that has me, and the yous around me.

Instead I go.
Around.
And.
Around.
And.
Around.
Myself.
And these expectations that I feel.

And so I move things. I move my status, or my furniture, and I hope that I have progressed.
But when nothing moves the next day, or the next, I feel that I have relapsed into some sad state of no-progress, for which I should be punished with depression and a good dose of self-contempt.

Today I am thinking though, that very little of the doing, and having, and gaining has ever been progress anyway.

That I have just been running around in circles and blurring the beautiful scenery with my speed of my fear of inadequacy.

And the scenery has been beautiful. I know it has. I know there has been love, and compassion, and justice, and kindness. And maybe someday I will be able to surrender to it. And be taken over, and regress into a delicious state of gratitude and rest.

I’m still here….
somewhere between the running and the blurring….
somewhere beneath the progressing and the self-doubt…..
and hoping that today my vision might be a little more clear and a little more here.
Just taking in the scenery. You. And. me. Here.