Today I had a moment of articulation. You know, those moments when suddenly you realize what it is that has been tugging at the back and sides and inner middles of your heart and mind for days upon end.

There are so many great things that I want to do, so much that I want to be and I get so discouraged when things like money and time and energy seem to get in the way. I think of so many places that I want to go, the person I want to be, the people I want to help and touch and it feels like everything is so hard-- so impossible. And I think I forget about the things that can be done here and now. I get distracted by the huge mountains that I forget about the foothills that must be climbed, one small step at a time before you can reach them. I long for the expanse of the forest while neglecting the detail of the trees.

There are all these things I wan to do-- places I want to travel, things that feel like greatness, but seem impossible. "I'm already out of breath," she says.... I don't have a lot of energy at the moment to take steps towards other dreams. I'm sort of working on a big one now. And I think to myself, what is it that I can cut out, what areas can I expend a little more energy in to fulfill one more dream.

I find myself in this zone where it feels as though nothing can be neglected. All must be done perfectly in sequence and I find myself getting upset with myself when the floor of my car is still dirty, the bathroom sink unwashed, readings from last week still unread. I fear if I let one thing slip, if I stop for a moment, I will be neglecting a dream, failing on a goal. Solitude, fasting, and stillness seems deadly. Nothing can be set aside, yet everything feels shallow, empty and spread just a bit too thin.

I am a member of a 20.000+ learning community-- there are things that I could be doing twenty-four hours a day. There are so many opportunities and although the thought of saying no is so very refreshing, I fear its loss.

But yesterday I took a little fast. I let myself off the hook for one moment-- passed up an opportunity to build some relationships with classmates simply because I couldn't handle my own pressure. And the funny thing is that I found giving up that little thing didn't elimate all possibilities-- it made other conversations so much sweeter. It reminded me of the refreshment that comes from stepping back for a moment.

These last few days I've been trying to inventory all the ways I pressure myself into a corner. Ways that I end up feeling a sense of drudgery at all the things I tell myself I must do. The list of the clear words are quite a bit shorter than the blurry ones, still.

Pressure. There is this sense of pressure that I must do all the great things I want to do. Places I want to go, experiences I want to claim as my own. And I wonder how many great, tiny things I might be missing in this moment. What are the great things that I can do, here, now, with the little money, the small resources I have now. Where are the lives that I am already touching? Aren't those great things? Am I failing to be present to the people who are already in my packed life because I keep looking up the hill, to greater things?

Thin spreading. I fear the portrait I paint of myself in this moment is one of very thin layers-- I dip my fingers in here and there, but I'm too tired to do as many things well as I try so hard. I've been working hard and thinking about ways that I can vary my involvement-- classes that I could bear getting B's in in order to do well at life. Finding a balance rather than obsession with everything. Trying to be less intentional and more open about the relationships that I already have.

Articulation. I'm still waiting for it. I'm working on it, but it feels as though it happens on small scraps of paper, between classes, during breaks as I walk from the studio to the waterfountain, my eyes tired from brain work. And I think part of me hopes that those little moments of articulation will prove to be little moments to come up for air. Moments to stop. To fast. To say no. to go up to the mountain, away from all the people who need healing. away from papers and readings and work to be done. Little moments on the hill for a short breath of air.