ME Strauss left me a wonderful comment, that we seem to have three weeks of PMS between periods.
This month it could just as well be an acronym for 'pissy men syndrome', as I really don't think this is a gender specific crush we are in at the moment, it seems to be fair shares pretty much all round.
I love recognising a shift in consciousness, don't you? That is, after all, exactly what seems to be going on right now. Too many people are metaphorically revving their engines at a red light, pacing the carpet, feeling tetchy and a little trapped.
Something is going to change - we are molecules of ketchup in a bottleneck and under pressure. The trick, when you have spotted this, is to frantically infuse hope and laughter (and spiritual long sight) into everyone you meet, so that the inevitable explosion gives rise to a sense of freedom and elation, not one of free-falling in panic.
I LOVE that we are all, in our own little ways, having a genuinely shitty time, I love that it's bigger than each of us, that spiritual things are afoot.
I've found the analogy.
We are fireworks, no the specks of dull brown chemicals in a firework. On another level, beyond our consciousness, the fuse has already burned down and the gunpowder has caught. We are in that split second of furnace heat and extreme pressure before we shoot to the sky and transmute into multicoloured sparkles. We may never find out why the fuse was lit, or what the celebration is, but we can still enjoy the ride and our new, glorious colours.
Stop concentrating on the squeeze, if you can, and look at the sky, in joy and anticipation. Oh, and pass the word; find everyone you can who feels trapped; hold their hand and weave them a story of things about to change. Pass the smiles.