Not the best way to begin...

The day started with pain. A deep twisting cramp that doubled back upon itself, once, twice, again and left me to practise what I occasionally preach: don't fight the pain, just feel it. Surrender to it and embrace it, make it mine all mine to cherish and release. Five minutes this time. Not bad.

The pain is gone so now I get to look at why my body put me on the rack. What have I left undone, unattended? What thoughts have twisted in my head, not been untangled? What anger have I felt? What loss? What helplessness? Where have I criticised myself for being human? What resentment have I shouldered? And once I find the epicenter of this upheaval, how to I return to balance? Put it right?

I think the seed was planted while I watched the new announcer, listened to the wooden stumbling delivery and sought for words to say it gently, explain the things that I breathe: smile while you are talking, just tell a friend the information...tact is not my strong point though I have learned to bridle my tongue.

The seed was watered speaking to the sales team. Explaining how we can encourage and persuade our sponsors to put their names in places they would not normally consider. Greeted by blank looks and the oh so hated phrase "they always do it this way". When I did active sales my greatest joy was finding ways to fill my clients' needs in ways that expanded their application...and gave them more than they expected for the same money so they always came back to me the next time and I was able to enjoy more than just the hunt and the kill of closing I had creation as dessert.

The seed was fed and nourished later because i did not eat on time, locked into editing and writing, a small dark world that can become so airless, listening to one phrase back and forth...do I cut or do I keep it? can I edit in a breath here to smooth the flow, do I pervert the meaning if I remove this word that sounds like a strangled cat, the aftermath of my subject's coughing?

The seed burst into planthhood when I failed to take the time for me, the cushion where I sit and stare at nothing, seeing the world of my day parade through the halls of thought and decision. Instead I plunged into another pool and nearly drowned in echoes from the past dressing up in today's blue jeans.

Then this morning, as the tide of sleep swept out, the seed flowered into vivid scarlet streaks of pain. Even benign self-neglect carries an accounting. I will do better today.