I’ve been working on a small book this week, but it’s not quite ready.

So here’s a drawing.

I have a small (probably unrealistic) love for goats lately. Their creepy-devil-eyes are just so endearing. I think I’d like to have some goats of my own one day. I’ve been fantasizing about the day I’ll have enough property to raise goats and chickens in my yard. Of course, this is just one of the many things that I think I want. Recently I’ve been contemplating the difference between the things I think I want, and the things I really want – the latter comes from an inner drive/ inner truth.  Here is a Linda Pastan poem from Carnival Evening that does a nice job of explaining the difference:

What we want

What we want

is never simple.

We move among the things

we thought we wanted:

a face, a room, an open book

and these things bear our names–

now they want us.

But what we want appears

in dreams, wearing disguises.

We fall past,

holding out our arms

and in the morning

our arms ache.

We don’t remember the dream,

but the dream remembers us.

It is there all day

as an animal is there

under the table,

as the stars are there

even in full sun.

 

~Linda Pastan