A phantom thought raced by me today…. In the middle of intentionally living life to the fullest, I wonder if I’m somehow missing it? Just because it’s cliché doesn’t make it less true.
Is the struggle I’ve constantly faced to remain connected to my writing a symptom of missing what’s important in a bigger way. The feeling that I never have enough time to reflect, let alone watch the grass grow or smell the roses, may be telling me that I’m missing “it” … The very marrow in the bones of a thinking woman’s psyche, contemplation, is missing or maybe it’s more accurate to say, draining away. The tap may be the very challenges that used to assure me I was making the most of every moment…the frenetic pace of those challenges feels like they’re filling up every quiet place inside me; and I miss the quiet, thoughtful moments of me. Me and nature, me and mine, me and God, me and it – whatever it may be…

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