soul sludge...

There is a definite backlash to a conscience placed on hold; sort of like a spiritual or emotional overload. Eventually it becomes like that suitcase that you can't get closed when your coming home from a trip. You always come back with more cr*p than you took and you never repack quite as neatly as you do when getting ready for the trip. You end up shoving stuff in the sides and bouncing up and down on the top of the suitcase to get is closed. And then you pray to God that the zipper or the latches don't give way in flight. No one wants to see their dirty underwear exposed in public.

That pretty much explains the state of my union. I can feel a slow and, most-often, gently tug/invitation to pay attention to what my heart is whispering and yet more times than not I put my fingers in my ears and hum an all-to-familiar tune. Emotional selective hearing. It's served me well in life, but it also has great potential to keep me where I'm at.

So, there it is. My Rip Van Winkle conscience is starting to stir; that unsettled feeling of being half-awake when you don't quite have your finger on reality.

I have a lot of 'shoulds' in my life. I should pay better attention as a mother. I should get up earlier and get something done. I should exercise. I should want to attend to my relationship with God. They are all part of the heavy charm bracelet that I drag around. 'Should' usually equals prison or entrapment to me. 'Could' has a greater chance of looking like a choice or an invitation. I could just admit that I feel pretty f*cked up most of the time and that relationship with God doesn't have to be some grand parade. Maybe it's just that--being able to whisper that I feel pretty f*cked up and then being able to hold those words in my dirty five-year-old hands and offer them to my Father with a one-word prayer, "help".