Wondering why . . .

So my best intentions desire to add to this space every few days since so many amazing, noteworthy things happens constantly; where did that go? . . . How can the truth and simplicity of Thoreau's "going to the woods to live deliberately, to front the essentials of life" and the daily thrills of joy I feel in a life I love, swirling in my brain, setting my intention every morning, get so bogged down; no, GROUND down by the demands of end-of-the-year at school that I find myself all week operating merely by rote, numb, buzzing with irritation, this me-who-is-not-me grading, reminding, directing, feeling their confusion at my manner in the eyes of students whom I love but can't wait to get rid of?

I got off the phone from disappointing Larry by declining to join him is Salt Lake for dinner with his girls, leaned out my kitchen window and silently watched my honey locust tree grow, all green and glowing amd quiet. I don't know how long I stood there, craving silence and a long stretch of doing nothing. It was delicious. And I thought, "Does God every get tired? Does he, disillusioned with the way things are going down here, ever just want the afternoon off to zone out?" We all need Him so much; how does that not wear on Him? So I'm pondering the thought that what I'm missing is the middle of the seesaw. A subtle balance with little shifts instead of these big work-like-crazy then collapse-from-exhaustion swings that I do now, going from the jarring bump on one side to the same thing on the other. I'll have to ask about God getting tired to Laura Willette tomorrow in speech; she is surprisingly and weirdly wise.

For now, I'm posting pictures that I love from Rachel's camera . . .