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Raindrops keep falling on my head, they keep falling. Steady soaking taking place. The endless drizzle. No flood warnings so far. Rain has been steady, but light. At some point, I'll have to go out and get a warm meal, but have avoided doing that so far.

Watched the Ray Charles movie last night. Amazing what he managed to accomplish given his circumstances. He was exceptionally talented and exceptionally flawed in his own peculiar way. An inspiring story when all was said and sung.

Reminds me of the NPR interview with the "Human Jukebox" band conductor. He was asked what didn't he get to do in his lifetime and he said he had done it all. He was totally satisfied with his life. I think Ray Charles ended on a similar note.

What about me? Not the same. So much that I've never done, never will do, now. I had none of the restrictions that Ray Charles endured, other than my own bindings, my own contraints. And even now, with the future shrinking rapidly in my direction, I still wrestle with myself, hold myself in place.

We each have our own demons, our own set of stopping points. Why? Why do we have them, why do I have them? And with what I know, why can't I break free instead of tumbling into a vortex of illnesses and limitations?

The movie both inspired me and made me question what it is I think I'm doing with the rest of my life. I've been waiting! For all of my years here on this planet, I've been waiting. For what? For something magical--an intervention, a sign, a direction. No matter what I was doing, I was still waiting. Inside I was marking time and waiting for the big revelation. Waiting for the right time, the right place, the right project, the right companion, the right reasons. My waiting draws to a close with the knowledge that I was waiting in vain. Nothing, no one, nada is ever coming--not while I sit and wait.

I keep seeing me in a brightly lighted place. There is a sense of calm, of peace, of orderliness about the place. There is fresh air and light. The space is healing, nurturing, and filled with joy, with stillness. I wish to become still. In all of my waiting, I've not been still. I've always been in motion, waiting and expecting intervention. I am ready to lay down this burden of waiting and replace it with stillness.

Meanwhile, the rain continues. I restarted the writing of poems in my Starthrower companion blog. First poems of the New Year. I had stopped creating poems back in November as the information on PD was being disclosed. There is a stillness involved in writing both these notes and more poems.

There's the saying about where there is stillness there is God. So I write my way to stillness, into the presence of life. I still wait, but that state will soon be disbanded. The stillness will overtake the waiting. The stillness will permeate and sustain, manifest and magnify.