And the days are not full enough

And the Days Are Not Full Enough

And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass.

Ezra Pound

These days my days are not full enough. And by full enough I don't mean that I have nothing to do; for here, at the end of the semester, I've definitely got plenty. Conferences with students. Papers to grade. Exams to make, to give, to grade. Meeting to attend. Proofs to read. Errands to run. Kitchens to clean, showers to take, hair to shampoo rinse and repeat.

By full enough I mean having some sort of meaning to them. Sometimes I feel like my life can just slip away (like that field mouse) if I'm not careful enough. I catch myself not paying attention to what's around me. I'm always missing steps, bumping into things, forgetting and misplacing things, but I feel like there's plenty else I've been missing in the rush.

The good thing about this detox program is that in the evenings I'm feeling calmer. I'm not coming home unable to wind down, though I am tireder (I think) than usual.

I long for this summer, and for fuller days of thinking and reading and talking with people I care about, and for travelling and hiking and all sort of other filling things. But I also long for balance, and for the ability to make more of my moments not wasted. I want to live more deliberately, consciously. Somehow.

poetrymonth