Dear Pneuma,

We have been out of touch for a while.  I hope all is well with you.  My life seems to be going well.  It is kind of strange here, though.  I am drifting.  A part of me thinks this must be a bad thing.  After all, aren't we always supposed to be striving?  Isn't it the lazy and the weak that simply float through life?  Where is the fire and urgency?  Maybe I am getting old.

Nonetheless, I am rather liking it.  It is odd to have time for just about anything.  It is odd to be able to plan trips and choose classes to take around desire and not around schedule.  There is decadence in a day spent practicing music.  It has been a struggle, too.  Guilt and anxiety arise with so much "free" time.  Friends get concerned that I might be unhappy, and suggest jobs or volunteer activities to pursue.  I am increasingly aware of the luxury of time.

So many gurus tell us to seek time.  They tell us to "be in the moment" and to "choose the now."  That has always come across as self-indulgent to me, and now that I find myself in a place where I don't have any projects pressing, I find it hard to simply accept the gift.  I feel like I need to justify myself to the world.  I feel unfairly advantaged that my household is holding together without a great deal of worry or trouble on our part.  I fear I am squandering my gifts-that a world in need is suffering and I am not responding, not doing enough.

It's humorous, really, because aren't peace and assurance the things so many strive for?  Aren't contentment and appreciation virtuous states of mind?  Have I become so good at whipping myself, I seek the discipline rather than its surcease?  If I would wish such simplicity for my loved ones, why do I deny it for myself?

I am guessing that worth is at the core of this tension in me.  Do I believe a human being is only worth what it can make, or do I believe there is an intrinsic value to each of us?  I find it simple to assign the intrinsic worth to others-to my pets, my friends, my family, the suffering and sad, students and strangers, people caught between roles and genders, women and men whose I names I will never know-but harder to assign such value to myself.  Yet, a life spent seeking to contribute to society at the expense of relationships was not a good pattern for me.  That is why I am going to stick with this vague, drifting experience for a while.  I am going to lose myself in little pleasures and small conversations.  Maybe, by doing so, I will find a way to reconcile the conflict in myself; so that whether I am striving or ceasing to strive, I will be satisfied.

Love Always,
Cobalt Dreams