Downstream, spinning slowly

©2022 Michael Raven

I feel floaty today.

I do not feel motivated to work. Or parent. I want to just remain floaty.

It is an untethered kind of floaty. Unmoored, I guess. Maybe it is the lack of sleep these past few days — I mean, I sleep, but I wake up frequently and my little watch tied to an app says I am averaging around five hours of sleep most nights since, well, forever. And forever is a very long time, as the Purple One once sang, so it shouldn’t really be the lack of sleep prompting this floaty feeling.

It’s probably something else. Which is groovy as long as I don’t get stuck in feeling unmotivated to work or parent.

While in this floaty state, I’ve been thinking about a great number of things. Travel. Wildcrafting my spirit. Weaving now that the air has cooled and having large amounts of yarn sitting on my lap won’t make me feel uncomfortably warm. Runes. Ogham/ogam. Peeling back the onionskin mind of mine to find all these cool little treasures I have had tucked away in deep folds and had forgotten about in my pursuit of… whatever I was pursuing. Oneiromancy. Patterns and practices. Missing the comfort smoking gave me after eleven years of being smober; not missing the inebriated days that ended more than thirteen years ago. Trying not to think too much about the really cool kitten I lost about a year ago to a freak allergic reaction to anesthetics. Or the weird (private) situation around the same period that feels like a story that happened to someone else. Losing interest in certain things that have been a large part of my life for most of it and gaining different interests to fill in the empty spaces left behind. A growing weariness for negativity in and around my life, and drama, too. I more often find myself staring blankly at empty space now as the world or someone near me rages at whatever is triggering the rage. I just don’t really want to deal with that drama if I don’t have to and find myself triggered a bit myself when someone insists on making me deal with their drama or rage. So I stare.

I’m grooving on the floating feeling, not really wanting it to change. Knowing it will. But, man, while I can, I want to cling to that sensation, and drift on and on and on.