I’ve reached the point wherein I am very, very fire season tired. I’ll get a second and third and fourth and fifth wind. I always do. But for the moment, I am tired and waiting on that breeze, that thing to loft my wilted feathers and carry me skyward.
I stayed in bed this morning until 10AM simply because I felt ill equipped to face the day, the week…the month. This month and August were not supposed to be like this. I was supposed to relish spacious living, room to roam the backcountry with my fly rod in hand and my dogs at my heels, daily ten mile runs, watering the gardens in the cool of 9PM while sipping a gin and tonic after a decent day of work…
That moment when life takes drastic turns in a thousand different directions is when we fire wives (and otherwise) prove our fortitude, when we prove what we are made of, as humans; I’m in the thick of a proving ground right now. I feel undignified, savage, scrambling, scruffy, exhausted. I told a friend today that I just have to keep on doing everything I’m doing because if I let everything come to rest, I’ll never get it all up in the air again. That loss of momentum is such a killer. I’m sure some of you can relate, fire wife or not. I just keep telling myself, “Don’t stop. The burden of it all will thin out eventually and then you’ll see the benefit of hard work. Keep pushing through it all. Fix what is broken. Make what you can. Feed yourself good food. Relax as deeply as you can once the sun goes down. Answer the emails with authentic joy. Keep saying yes.”
I simply must keep it all up in the air, orbiting and swirling at lofty heights. I’ll break a thousand fecund sweats keeping it all there, but the effort boasts a greater result than the alternative.
I made it into the studio around 4PM today. I didn’t get much done, but I was there, I made it. I fought the chaotic trajectory of the day with all my might and I won. I’m going to do it again tomorrow and then the day after that, because in the summer, this what I do, I fight hard and I win.