This morning, we talked of restless souls as we lay in bed. And it’s been an edgy day today, sun in between or behind clouds, occasional drops of rain as we walked the neighborhood. Wind dashing down streets, around corners of houses, blowing petals from blossoms, thrashing tree limbs. Wind chimes ringing from house to house.
On the internet I find "restless souls" is the name for a photography business, a couple of bands, characters in Warcraft, a horror movie, and a book about American spirituality by Leigh Schmidt.
We tried soothing our restlessness with ice cream, and I later channeled it through photos as I tried to manage twitchy pixels and vignetting. And now it’s well past midnight. C has fallen asleep, the cat is waiting (impatiently) for her nightly treat, a couple of sirens wail in the distance, and I’m finishing this blog, already thinking about tomorrow…
Even if all these needs are satisfied, we may still often, if not always, expect that a new discontent and restlessness will soon develop, unless the individual is doing what he is fitted for. A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself.