"How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live." - Henry David Thoreau
I have enjoyed reconnecting with some marvelous and, I should mention, extremely attractive people - my family. Their kids look like my kids. They look like me.
It's fascinating to see where life has taken them, how much they've changed, how much they've stayed the same.
It troubles me to consider the amount of time that has passed since I was last in their company. How is it possible to become so involved in the daily grind that you lose touch? Apparently, it's not only possible, it's likely.
Family really gives you a sense of who you are, where you come from. . . and where you're going. In its smallest sense, it is its own little pod of collective unconscious, one life lived by a group of people. My family is my self-image. (Of course, you can't stay Jung forever, but I feel like a little id around these folks...)
Giddy fatigue and a penchant for puns is a bad combination, ned's paw?
I am off to squeeze a few buns for the party (it is a wild bunch!) - if you've read this, think about calling a beloved family member you haven't talked with in a while (Mommy, I am dailing you RIGHT NOW - hope you're up!) and just say hi.
Time to go live. . . have fun!
1 month ago