Shtuff.

Okay. So I've been thinking about actions, motivation, (strange big word here), yadayada---basically, why do I think the way I think, do the things I do, want the things I want, say the things I say. I think I have been learning, this year, to distinguish more feelings and values and the will and commitment. What is going to keep me from wasting my life? Not to become pessimistic. Just realistic. And perhaps idealistic. Too idealistic. In a perfect world I would be---perfect. Baha. No, at least I would accomplish something that would last, do something that would not die, not just to create my legacy. Oh, God. I really need to learn to throw my own vision for my life out the door. My own dreams. "God shatters our dreams so we can find Him. Then He replaces our shattered dreams with His dreams for us," said Lutzer. So much of me, I know, needs to change, but I'm scared. Really scared. It's like ripping out my eyes. It is like standing naked in the middle of the mall. Ann Proulx, "We think of change as benign, but it chews some people up and spits them out." It's uncomfortable, and I love comfort. I sometimes cling to comfort.

John Berryman's Dream Song One

Huffy Henry hid the day,
unappeasable Henry sulked.
I see his point---a trying to put things over.
It was the thought that they thought
they could do it made Henry wicked & away.
But he should have come out and talked.

All the world like a woolen lover
once did seem on Henry's side.
Then came a departure.
Thereafter nothing fell out as it might or ought.
I don't see how Henry, pried
open for all the world to see, survived.

What he has now to say is a long
wonder the world can bear & be.
Once in a sycamore I was glad
all at the top, and I sang.
Hard on the land wears the strong sea
and empty grows every bed.