I can’t sit still inside my head. Has the world lost its tilt?
Things feel either fuzzy around the edges or sharply sparkling with demanding auras, like night-driving that has me searching for the real center.
Curiosity bumps into daily schedules, spinning my brain off after unfettered wonders.
The havetas fight with the wantas, causing some part of my left brain to stamp its feet.
Persisting for days, this chaos has beckoned my kilter to return.
I resist the persistence, wishing to pursue whimsey when I most need to plant myself to figure this out. There are, after all, real problems needing my attention; commitments I must attend to.
How can I answer duty amidst summer breezes, bird songs, and conflicting calls to play?
Like a pendulum, incapable of perpetual motion, the arc lessens with each swing, and clarity arises on my horizon.
Silence, contemplation, calm whisper comfort and peace. “Attend to yourself; back off; and sort this out” arrive from inside me. I wait and think, losing sleep, petting cats, drinking wine.
Every concession is a compromise; every step toward fixing this drags one foot. But I push through to some big changes that promise to turn chaos to kilter, with just a few flicks of the pendulum that won’t let it stop. Kilter-light, not stasis, is what I need.
I proceed:
- one foot in front of the other sporting mis-matched socks;
- taking the shortest path from here to there with only one skitter around that tree back there;
- avoiding pitfalls but pausing to look into each pit;
- tempering every “must” with a dash of “need.”
And there it is. Once again, I have balanced myself. A couple good nights’ sleep restore my strength, and I hit the ground ambling. After all, running is bad for my joints.
Writerly 