In Spite of My Intentions

"Life is really simple,

but we insist on making it

complicated."

Confucius 

This morning, my mind is not cluttered with thoughts.  In fact, it would take serious effort to string three words into one phrase.  My head, I swear, is filled with cotton.  Each thought is softly covered in protection from being pulled out and down onto my page.  I am at a standstill, without one word to write.

Where is this solitude when I try to meditate and my words are roller blading, zipping through my head!  Why can I not enjoy this forced stillness with a deactivated brain?  Instead of peace I feel anxious and unsettled.  

Indeed, I struggle to make the most simple pause into a complex arena of discombobulated thoughts.  I forget that timing really isn't mine, that it is elastic, contracting and expanding according to the Divine.

My life unfolds in spite of my intentions, and adjust I will.  I forget to breathe deeply, to let go, and just be.  Without this surrender, drama will continue to loop through my brain creating all kinds of complex drama.