Last week at this time, I was going totally crazy. I felt dangerously stressed out, more so than I can ever remember. Today, I came home from work early, did a little laundry, relaxed with a cup of Zen tea, and watched a marvelous thunderstorm from the safety of my big green living room chair. I read some wonderful haiku (on the subject of nurturing, no less!), wrote my post for tomorrow (Write on Wednesday is back!), and actually made dinner myself (pork tenderloin "Diane" with wild rice and steamed baby carrots -it smells yummy!)
So, what's the big difference?? I have nothing in my musical agenda this week. No concerts, no rehearsals, no performances scheduled (until May 25, that is).
It's clear where the source of my stress seems to lie.
Why is it, though, that the thing I love doing most in the world causes me so much angst???
It all comes down to another four letter word, the word that appears here on the Byline, and in my morning pages, over and over again.
TIME.
Sigh.