Lately I have had so much that I've wanted to say; but with very little time or energy left to do so. This is not a complaint, only a realization of the matter. I no longer try to find a groove, for the groove is forced upon me by my ill body and destiny. In the past the more I grasped at the groove, the greater the distance became. At this point it's not even a gap, but more like the space of our galaxy.
Now I am trying to accept what is being and will be. I flow through courses that Mother Nature has enrolled me in; they are always exactly what I've needed, despite how uncomfortable they make me feel. Also, I don't trust the events that bring me joy; life is too fickle to allow for a joyous constant. Pain and joy are friends, and each allows the other to have some spotlight.
Me, I remain as the Self, watching it all unfold, taking note of how life automatically does what it is going to do. No...I am not happy; if anything, I am overbooked with busying myself with tending to my body's need and tending to those I care for. And that does suffice.