Monsoon mists in my head and I can’t seem to wake up. But I did want to catch up with myself here and write about a new thread in my soul that I would like to spin out, extend, develop, weave into a pattern, an old design, ancient yet new for me, a necessary blanket as I move into old age. It is the thread I discovered evening before last, preparatory to sleeping. The old tiredness/depression/unhappiness with my self and my life surfaced and I said to myself, you are tired. Go to sleep. This self-advice has happened before, I know, but now it must become a habit and a pattern. Go deeper, deeper into the moments of my days, observe each thought as it surfaces, and speak to it thus. Like this morning, speaking to the image of the monsoon mists in my head, I say, why should the whole continent be covered by them and not your head? It is a time of resting, of absorbing with your roots the water of life for the year to come. Saturate your soul with rest, if need be. 

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