I feel unmoored lately, sometimes drifting, sometimes dog paddling through day after day, stopping occasionally to look around frantically for something to tether myself to.
Some days it's work, some days it's the safety of my bed, lying next to my wife. Too often, it's things that are themselves floating and leave me feeling alone and disoriented.
The best moments are in the garden, soaking in the sun alongside these beings whose roots reach into the earth. I talk to them and gently tend their leaves and ask them for a bit of their strength, their knowledge of the way to hold yourself firm to the ground.
As I eat a tiny ripe tomato or a crisp raw green bean, I imagine their wisdom seeping into my veins, teaching me what it means to grow strong.
p.s. The Messy Shot.