…all the children are insane waiting for the Summer rain…
There’s an insanity in waiting. If things are going to be, they must be forced in a direction. I’m not sure what I believe waiting actually accomplishes. Staving off the inevitable disappointment, I guess. Or somewhere between the notion of understanding and the actual understanding. If I want a glass of water, I go to where there will be water. There’s no confirmation that the water will be there, despite always being there. An empty jug, and unexpected piping issue. The problems, unexpected, but always near–use your personal understandings of the world to figure out solutions. And I believe I am a pretty good solution-creator. So am I the insane children waiting for the Summer rain?

To keep this entry brief: I don’t think that’s necessarily the full truth. But here is: I hoard the stresses of an imperfect life and use them to ignore the time passing rapidly, unimaginatively. There’s a lesson to be had, or a gift to obtain, in the act of dissolving that stress. The waiting game; it’s necessary for some things, but it’s just an excuse for the others.