Missing in Stillness

End of a long day, 10 hours of work behind me, longing for beauty, feeling my health slide, feeling adrenaline still at work in my body, even this late at night. I dreamed of a lying on a beach in some resort while I was working away on important business today. I felt bad that I wanted to be somewhere else. Not mindful, not deliberate, just running away. Flight of fight response, and thinking about our clients, the poor and homeless, no palm strewn beach for them to lie on.

My moral conviction is not as strong as it was when I was thirty; it has tangled into a knotted ball of complexity. Youth has its passion, but middle age has a certain sombre acceptance. I miss dad and I wonder if I am grieving well. Is my ambivalence related to my grief? How soft the rain seemed when I was caught in it the other day without a hat. I was less frustrated by it and wondered: is this a good thing?

I am beginning to think that there is a part of sorrow that is like that feeling you get when you are half way through a jigsaw puzzle and realise that maybe some of the pieces are actually missing. How long do we search for something that isn't there?