At the beach today, there were drifts of foam, looking like slabs of snow. I named them "Foamdrifts."
Hunks of the foam would break off in the wind, and begin turning end over end along the beach, leaving a thin trail of foam on the sand as the foam hunk gradually grew smaller and smaller. I named these pillows of foam "Tumblefoam." They reminded me of a herd of sheep, clustering together to weather the wind, and then breaking apart to scatter and flow. (Thank you to my brother for capturing the foam in pictures!)
I feel like the beach this morning was a good metaphor for my life right now. I have drifts of foam banked up all around me--the detritus of my working life, which consumes most of my waking hours. 15 work projects, with all the associated books and papers and supporting materials. Four different email accounts to check every day, again connected to various projects, and connections with people in all of these projects and daily interactions with them. It isn't the work that's so hard, it's managing the transitions from project to project and person to person. It's all good work, as the foamdrifts are good. It's a juggling act though.
And then, at least once a day, I break free from the drifts, like a tumblefoam hunk, to scatter and run and be free. That mirrors how I feel about life. It's magic, life.
