What’ll I do?

There are times in our lives when we feel out of sorts, when nothing we touch seems to be working, when people we talk to seem to be perpetually forgetting agreements we made when we last met. When promises made recklessly are then quickly overlooked and we find ourselves unable to sleep early expecting a call about something that seemed important, but the call never came. Sometimes I wonder, then: why don’t I just call and say, “I have been waiting for your call, do you have the answer?” But even that doesn’t seem to be worth doing.

 That’s it. Why do I feel these days that nothing is worth doing? First — or I think it’s first — I have been having trouble sleeping. I go to bed early and read wonderful books. At around 11:30 p.m., late for me, I get sleepy and fall deeply asleep. But then I wake up at 1:15 a.m., always at the same hour, and I am wide awake. I look around my room blankly, decide to go to the bathroom, then look stupidly around again. I decide to reach for my allergy pills (I don’t have allergies but these pills put me to sleep). I take one then I pick up my book and read a few chapters.

At 2:15, always at the same time, I am sleepy. I turn off the lights and fall asleep. I wake up at seven, an hour later than I had gotten used to before these strange days. I get up, drag myself to my kitchen and make my morning concoction — tea made from a big piece of sliced ginger, a thick slice of lemon, tanglad that I snip with scissors, water to boil. Then I put three teaspoons of honey, a big dash of cinnamon into a mug and pour the tea in when it’s ready.

I pick up my basket that sits on my coffee table and bring it to my porch. This is my prayer basket. First thing every morning I write to my buddy, God, whom I call My Darling. We talk. No, I think we whisper on paper. I write my thoughts to him; sometimes I confide in Him when I have problems. He always answers, you know. In the middle of my journal a phrase will enter my head and I know it’s from Him. One day recently I remember suddenly thinking – Life is not a business to be managed, it is a mystery to be lived. A beautiful statement. It must have come from Him.

Also almost every morning a flock of doves flies around the condo passing by my porch. Sometimes it is a huge flock of maybe 20 birds, but always there is a single big white dove that flies alone. I think — true, I could be inventing this — that white dove is me. My God tells me I am happy alone. I am in some kind of awe at these birds that fly by every morning. They usually let me know I will have a nice day. I have come to notice that when I do not see them, my life is kind of blah. Maybe I’m superstitious or too imaginative, but never mind. The doves add poetry to my simple, boring life.

You know your life is in a blah phase when nothing goes right. For many months I was exercising almost daily and it really toned my body. Then suddenly on Oct. 23 I very sick — bad dry cough, hacking, unpleasant. It hasn’t gone away. Last night I had a bad cold on top of everything. So I stayed away from exercising. And every time I thought I could exercise, something would go wrong and I would not be able to go.

 This morning I had a yoga class at 10. Last night I tried to send a text to my driver to tell him to come in early, which he usually does, because I had to leave home early. He is usually in by 8:30 a.m. But my cell phone refused to send it. I kept getting a “Try Again” prompt and it never sent. So this morning he got in at 11. The tire of his motorcycle had burst, took forever to repair. Instead of going crazy I decided to make earrings for a bazaar I will be joining in Sunshine Place on Nov. 24 and 25. Please come. Open to the public.

 I’m sorry if I have bored you with my miserable column but what can one do? When I look at my life I realize I have had many blessings, much happiness, many insights that I share with my readers. So I thought it fair to tell you that I have lousy days too, days when nothing works, days that make you feel so blah that all you can do is stare at the distance and wonder — what’ll I do?

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