Girl's Search for Meaning

I am wondering what it all means.

I am working on my book, trying to weave together so many thoughts and concepts and stories into something that I very much hope makes sense and will help others in some significant way.   I am thinking about Christmastime and family, fullness, the difference between childhood magic and the adult kind.  I'm thinking about the winter Solstice that happened on such a blizzardous day last month and the intentions that I wasn't able to make/share that day, and haven't been sure about making or sharing since.  

My days are full.  I rush around tidying the house as Daisy naps, trying to complete basic business tasks and household maintenance before I wind down like a clock in the early evening.  I visit with good friends, delight in Daisy's daily new words and discoveries and abilities, nuzzle with Mark, watch the snow fall.  I use the internet as a portal to things I might acquire, learn about, investigate, confirm.  It's a nice window to other worlds.  I play the piano for stolen moments -- Daisy dances or edges me out of my bench seat so that she, the rightful player, can take her spot and tap the big piano keys with her tiny fingers.  

I keep in touch with family members as well as I can, laughing and sharing when I can, trying to keep the edge of impatience out of my voice if they call at an inconvenient time or with a tone in their voice that feels like it will soon expand into something too heavy for me to carry.  

I try to keep up with myself, what I'm thinking, where I'm going, what I want, what I can give, how I can serve.  I hope I'm self-aware, but like anyone, how can I really know?  It's so much easier to see the (supposedly) faulty trajectories or missing pieces in others than in myself.  I am certain I am denser than I know sometimes.  I pray that I will see the fuller story in the situations around me.  

I am noticing how much of my life is driven by some sort of ego-payoff. . . how much energy have I spent (wasted?) on activities or things or titles to make me feel that I matter, that what I do or am or contribute has value?  How would my being or actions or contributions change without this concern or awareness?  

Does music really mean anything?  Does writing?  
Do the benefits of wealth really give one anything of value? 
Does a beautiful surrounding or body or eyeshadow change one's life?
I believe in love.  Is love really all there is?  Is the rest flavoring?   

I think working on my creativity book in such detail and focus is making me a little bit nuts, which is okay.  Quite a few of my most admired creative spirits lean into the out-there realm from time to time for sure.  I wonder if this existential funk/curiosity I'm in is a result of trying to detach from the inevitable result of whatever the response to the book will be.  Huge, delightful impact?  Nobody giving a damn at all?  Somewhere in the middle?  Maybe I am nervous and telling myself that nothing matters feels better than admitting that this (perhaps silly) thing matters quite a lot to me.  

I hope you are all out there enjoying the crest of the new year.   If YOU have it figured out, please do tell.   I sense there are answers, there is meaning.  I just am less and less sure of what it is....


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