Caught in the act.

I just did it. I caught myself in a breath of anxiety - a gasp of time. I'm reading an article in the newspaper - a profile, so a long piece. I get to a break in the text - a helpful paragraph, and my next thought is do I have the time to finish it - is it worth me carrying on as I may arrive at the end of my journey (work) before I do? So now I'm in a fix - I want to read, but if I do and I arrive will I start again? So I shouldn't start - I don't have the time - I have to do all-sorts today - and I don't have time for that either, and now this is my day. And I realise - this isn't the way I should see my life. Chopped up into chunks here and there - no possibility for ebb or flow, the Now hesitating in the face of the Next to come.

So I stop. And for a moment I can see the thoughts - caught in the act like a pick-pocket with their hand in on your wallet. Frozen they seem solid - ice-bergs that loom over me standing in my lifeboat. They stretch upward - the camera climbing the steepness to reverse and hold on me - small, vulnerable.

In the stillness a route through is revealed - a way to navigate the huge obstacles that have begun to close in, and the breath begins to slow. Each stoke forward accompanies the almost unnoticeable drip of melt. As I grow in my confidence - the oars powering more forcefully as the direction gets clearer, imperceptibly at first the monoliths decrease - without the speed and cacophony they are manageable and can be tamed.

I know I will always find myself surrounded - bombarded by my doubts, my fears - and my mistakes. And maybe it's too much caffeine, too little sleep? But more it is the need to sometimes... stop, to step back, to put into context, to let go. I won't always feel I can carry on, and that is when I need to ask for help. Until then the least I can do is breath.