Restless

I’ve been strangely restless the past week or so, and full of contradiction: I’m tired, but I can’t sleep; I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t want to be with people; I want to do something, but I can’t settle down and concentrate on any one project.

“It’s spring,” people tell me, but I’m not satisfied with that.

“Maybe you feel unfulfilled because you no longer have a defined nine-to-five job,” my husband suggested. That’s not it either. I’m very happy to make my own hours, thanks.

Last night as I lay awake in bed, I think I might have hit on it. My spirituality is evolving again. True, spirituality is by definition an eternally changing process, as you grow and redefine your connection to the Divine. This time, though, I think my focus is shifting away from Celtic mythology where it’s been firmly entrenched for the past eight years. This doesn’t mean that all the work I’ve done so far is to be discounted; not in the least. I’ve grown and learned and exercised certain mental and spiritual muscles, so to speak, and I cherish every day of those eight years for the connections I’ve made and the knowledge I’ve gained, both spiritually and lore-wise. It simply means that there’s another area of focus to which I now need to direct my attention. This isn’t as sudden as it might seem, either; it’s been nibbling at me for about five months. It’s taken me that long to figure it out.

Well, I’ve figured out there’s something I need to focus on. Now, figuring out what I’m supposed to be focusing on; that’s the hard part.