I don’t want to write boring entries
My Tuesday evening yoga class was filled with four new students, one completely new to yoga; eight total signed up. I found that the community center had not adequately alerted students that the class started a week later, fortunately no one seemed too upset over the confusion. So far my Sunday class has been very small, only three people registered with some drop-ins showing up. Usually the Tuesday class is that way.
Although my back had been aching after the drive the past couple of days I was pleased to find my energy somewhat improved for tonight's class. It helped that I've worked from home the past two days. Tonight's class was more energetic than Sunday's because I was feeling better.
I restarted a blog in part to put travel narratives, restaurant reviews, and that sort of thing somewhere and the LiveBlog application on Facebook was not working for me. I also thought it would be a good way to try to get back to keep a journal. I'd been doing pretty well for a few months last year, but as spring progressed and my family grew to include my relationship with CK, I find it harder and harder to write in my journal. I thought perhaps putting it in a blog, which allows me to type would encourage me since I type very quickly.
However tonight I found myself as resistant to writing again as I did going to meetings again. It isn't as if I still want to be away from the routine of my life, there were many things about that routine I was missing last week up in Canada. I believe I resist writing sometimes because I have nothing interesting to say about my day. I like to write about things when I find them interesting or at the very least, entertaining. It is the daily humming and drumming that is hard to get back to, the tedious underpinnings of living.
I'd like to be interesting but there's laundry to be done, vacuuming is desperately needed, the cats need claws trimmed, somehow I'd like to fit in making baked treats for the Fourth of July out at the monastery, I'll be at CK's tomorrow night, then zazen with a meeting for the refugee outreach beforehand, I'm supposed to chant after service on Thursday & I'm terrified inside, I have a therapy appointment Thursday... And I'm not even giving thought to all the tasks on the work list that have come back into play or the rather busy weekend ahead of us.
Details rushing around. The white-noise of how life gets lived. On holiday or retreat you either have none of those details because you're outside of the routine on holiday or in retreat you have a very specific routine that takes care of all details so the mind can be empty of them. And I don't find them all the most interesting things... I can certainly pick out the things I find most interesting on that list and I'd really like to let all the work, chore, tasks lists fall to the side so I can focus on those, but life needs to be lived (which is another way of noting that there's a mortgage to pay, etc.).
So maybe that's why I don't want to journal sometime. I feel I've got nothing to say but the mundane lists that buzz around in my head, that I have to settle again and again. The routine of writing a journal becomes just another item on just another list and when I am not actively entertained on some level by the task, I don't want to do it.
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