There's something ungrounded about my days right now. Maybe they're just moving too fast; faster than my own lunar and introspective rhythm. I look up and another week is gone, my days strewn like fallen petals. It's a beautiful mess that I don't quite feel myself in, though that does not mean that there's anything wrong.
I had a lovely day yesterday, just walking and drinking coffee mostly. Today, I want to lose myself in a book, find a sliver of something brand new. The Luminaries was delivered to my desk this week and it has just the heft of a tome to start on a Sunday.
We're told to live in the present, to not lean back into a sepia-toned past or strain forward to a rose-tinted future. But being too much in the present can begin to feel very stimulus/response. Like there isn't a bigger next, a larger connection, only this constant in-and-out of versions of the same day.
I need to find a way to cast myself forward and then pull back holding that fine silk thread. So that n these sometimes aimless days I can look down and see I'm holding onto something, even though I've forgotten what's on the other end, even if I never really knew.
Products: Splendid leggings from Net-a-Porter | Coventina dress from Toast | Helmut Helmut Lang jacket from La Garconne | Bloch flats from Gravity Pope | High tide pendant from Pamela Love | The Luminaries: A Novel by Eleanor Catton |