I keep mapping things out: budgets, schedules, obligations on the calendar, sure that if I follow the plans, the rest will fall into place. I swear, it makes sense. But the unexpected financial hits occur, Nick’s late night blood sugar treatments leave me tired and error-prone the next day, something comes up last minute that throws weekend plans askew.

The financial pressures and demands on my time mirror each other. What starts off as extra money or a free half hour quickly transforms into something desperate – the paycheck that was supposed to have cash left over after bills ends up not being enough because the tank and the kitchen are empty again. The 30 minutes of writing time turns into an hour (ahem), stealing the part of the morning that was supposed to be a walk on the beach. Poor dog. 

The path is the right one, I’m sure, but perhaps I haven’t packed properly or maybe I’m spending too much time worried about getting to the destination before dark.

I am reading Eat, Pray, Love and finding surprising resonance in my own life, despite Elizabeth Gilbert’s  circumstances being almost completely different on the  surface. The despair, the longing for grace, for pleasure, for  a way to reconcile it all together into better way of being.

I continue along my own journey, grateful for the touchstones of beauty within.