Thoughts Floating Through The Rain

I wonder sometimes where “time” is once it leaves us. Where does it go? What happens to it once it passes through? Does it become little dust particles that hang on clouds waiting to once more come down to earth one day and become part of someone’s life again? Or does it evaporate and completely cease to exist?

I tell you, the thoughts that go through my head sometimes. I can’t help but wonder where they come from or why they’re even passing through. And what is a person suppose to do with all that stuff that parades through one’s head anyway?

Should we dig out the old HB pencil and connect the dots between the endless stream of thoughts and words in the hopes that some kind of image will emerge and fit into the scrap book of our lives?

It is raining today - a soft gentle pitter-patter on the tin roof – the kind that could lead to a hypnotic trance if I ignored the thoughts prancing their way through my head long enough to allow it to.

I’m debating. Should I busy myself and do some packing, should I continue to allow the thoughts to flow on the page or should I close my eyes and let the rhythm of the falling rain gently rock me into a state of semi consciousness?

What I would really like to do, for just a few minutes, is to speed up “time” to get a glimpse of what the next few weeks will bring. That’s what I’d really like to do. Then maybe I wouldn’t have so many thoughts racing through my head making a bee line for the front door wanting to know which direction I’m going to go in.

But you know, even though the immediate seems to be surrounded with a mess of uncertainty and confusion, there’s an inner deeper knowing that the ship does indeed have sails and it is heading in the right direction.

The one immediate and sure thing is this: one more sleep in the park and we’re out of here. We’re not coming back. It’s been a slice but I really don’t anticipate too many tears as we roll out of here and head over to Carr’s Landing to look after my sister’s house for the next few weeks – after which, “time” will tell what comes next. Unless of course, it actually does disintegrate into dust particles and attaches it’s self to the clouds and won’t reappear again until the next rain.

In the meantime I will continue to have faith and continue to prepare and market my workshops hoping it will all fit together sooner or later and somehow pay for itself in the end.