It takes so little to distract me from the good life, that which satisfies, food that is good. A simple text, a mind wandering, a bad mood, a cloudy day. These simple things can make me imagine another day, another way, another path.

My head, my heart, know what I truly desire. What nourishes me. What calls me. But yet something in my depths pulls, beckons to leave these behind. If only for a moment, only in my dreams.
I become preoccupied, disconnected. But what I notice is there is also a melancholy, a sadness, a pall that accompanies such distractions. A desolation rather than consolation.
Why can sadness and despair feel so alluring? The draw of sleep under heavy covers, silence in a dark room, an ending or pause is alluring.
Yet I acknowledge my joy, my consolation comes in the light, the activity, the flesh and blood touch rather than imaginings. My Spirit is lighter in my present reality than some distant past or vague future.
But yet the tug to the darkness and the stall and denial continues to beckon some days. Can feel as real as dreams.
But it’s the difference between a tanning bed and the warmth of the sun. I long not for a limited edge of light and heat, the small halo of the bulb. I long for a light and warmth that extends beyond me, that invites movement and freedom. Not a cloistered, individual artificial lamp. My desire is to live in the land of natural light and expansive rays of the sun.