Balance. So much weight in just that one word.
Life is a delicate balance between breaths. Moment to moment the fulcrum may be foreshortened and the balance upset. I float between these moments, seeking forces which will stabilize the balance.
But the harsh truth is that each breath is held in for as long as may be possible. Breaths that allow words to flow out are cherished and greedily inhaled. Meanwhile, breaths that allow for other opportunities or for words to flow in are carefully kept out.
Is this out of fear? Or something else?
One breath that I seem to be guarding against is that of reading published works.
I have a very long TBR list that I have made no dent in. At all. But part of the problem is that I just have been unable to find a book that I care about enough, be it story or characters, to finish.
There are six books sitting on my bookshelf right now that I’ve begun but haven’t finished. One of them I was well over halfway finished with and haven’t touched it in two and a half months. (Or something like that.)
Is it me? Or is it the books?
Soon enough I’ll have almost no time for anything outside work and school. When this happens, I know I will be out of balance again, carefully guarding against other breaths.
Are you balancing between breaths or relishing everything that comes into your life?