Trust in Time

I was reminded of a rather humbling lesson today.

It's been a rough couple of days.  Days that made me want to hide from the sun shining on the ever warming world.   The kind of days that take extra effort to get through and render usual comforts, chores.  Things like reading, fresh air hikes, and cooking, which are almost never arduous.  I finished a book, I walked many miles, and I made use of my ham bone for soup, yet still I felt burden not relief.

There are reasons for the malaise. Identifiable causes, but right now they seem so much smaller and less significant, which means there were reasons.  Already on the verge of past tense.  There will always be reasons...worries and wrongs to wallow in and that weigh upon.  I know this so the agitator is in mismanaging my reactions.  Mostly my overreactions.  Ala the only person I can control and/or change is myself.

And yet to know this truth and accept its responsibility, doesn't always make its implementation possible or likely.  Sometimes it takes some time so all bouts of self lamentation and every internal pep talk only make me feel more hopeless and heavy.  Time, it heals. Trite, but also true.

This morning I woke up recognizing all of yesterday's gifts.  Favors that just the day before I wasn't ready to honor.  My heart was too heavy...my head too hazy to accept them.  I was off center, akimbo and out of balance.  This morning I felt so much more myself as I pulled out of the driveway and chanted my daily nod to Prufrock:

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question. . .
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

Miss Bit always gives me a you're so strange mom sideways glance when I  recite the opening stanza.  I think I may even do it to annoy her now, but today the words I rotely utter made me excited to read Eliot's monologue again in entirety.  I haven't read it through since college.  I was excited because Hazel quoted the same part of Prufrock for Augustus.  That small text to world connection woke me up to so many thoughts and feelings I have today with regard to a book that yesterday I was numb to as I read the last page.  This morning I edited the photo I almost didn't bother to take during yesterday's walk. Today I appreciate my capture of two hawks hawking.  The batch of soup I didn't think I put much love into yesterday, proves itself forgiving today as I enjoyed a bowl.

Today I'm remembering what a difference a day (or two) can make.