Has ever such a simple word been filled with such hope, such longing, such terror and such fear?

Little Orphan Annie with her eyes towards the future spreads her arms wide, belting out the word. What joy and hope that curly red head inspired even to this day that a single word can inspire a song and the thrill of anticipation. With a glass half full, the future is a beacon and a boon. Promises not yet fulfilled are a thing of beauty so long as they remain unbroken.

But there is also the tomorrow of Macbeth, that poor, doomed, half mad man.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time…

– Act V scene 5, Macbeth, William Shakespeare

Has ever a word so encapsulated the monotony of plodding time without punctuation of passion? Time passes and passes swiftly by but without verve,  without emotion are we but zombies filling seats,  pushing paper,  dragging our way through for want of anything more.

What is tomorrow to you? Faced with these options, I think of Lewis Carroll ‘ s White Queen: “The rule is: jam tomorrow and jam yesterday – but never jam today!”


Life Overwhelming

How long can one person remain sane with the constant tug and pull of needs and demands in all directions? How do you decide who and when to push back? It is never easy to scream, “Enough is enough!”

I try to do this now and then, but as an introvert it often means my friends and family bear the brunt as the needs I am most comfortable pushing back on and asking to just leave me alone. But is that really fair? Friends and family are the ones you should be taking time out of your day to appreciate and enjoy, no matter what they need. No matter how worn down you are.

It is wearing, life. Rewarding always, but wearing, too. My fall resolution is to be more selfish. I shall plan meetings that allow me to step away from my desk and walk ten minutes in the sun. I shall not work overtime at the expense of my friends and family. To those who treat me as some unfathomable creature for still grieving, still mourning, I shall not apologize. My grief does not disappear for anyone’s convenience, least of all mine, but that is an honor and a prize that I shall not relinquish.

I don’t mean to neglect others, but to best enjoy others, I must first enjoy myself. If overwhelmed, exhausted and cranky, I shall only run the risk of dragging those I love into the mire and morass of that muddy torment of sticky need and clinging requirement. Once I extract myself, clean up and rest, then I can better distinguish where I can take pleasure in helping and where I must for the sake of work.