listening to: Solomon's Porch, Homes for Guatemala V.3
reading: Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov (halfway there, and I was able to spell his name without looking at the book! woo!)
I'm just realizing, because I'm kind of slow about these things, how little space my life has for silence. Any kind of silence- contemplative, stunned, whatever. When I sit down for a few minutes and try to tune in to what is going on in my heart and soul, I get static. Meaningless chatter. I'm so discouraged by it. I know something is going on inside me- I feel all this unfocused negative stuff. I have no idea what the source is, and I'm having no luck finding it. I feel completely shut off from my internal life. Disconnected. Like it isn't even me in there, but some unsympathetic stranger who insistently bars my way. I get the feeling that it's "for my own good". I have a long history of protecting myself from feeling too strongly- it's a habit I'm trying to break, with some success. Because when I'm in self-protect mode, I walk around on auto-pilot and I can hardly feel anything at all.