Today I feel a little defeated by life. Last week I was burgled. I've noticed that my energy levels have been a bit low since and I think this is probably a shock response so I am being quite gentle with myself. 
It's been odd watching myself respond to having my house broken into but perhaps therein lies the issue. My bystander experience protects me from feelings that are uncomfortable but also separates me from my self. Reconnecting to that self is troublesome because it seems to involve me re-experiencing the things that caused the detachment in the first place. I think this is a fairly common pattern because it protects us from our selves to some extent. The self that might lash out or tear itself apart trying to escape something that it is struggling to resist or contain. 
I suppose that for some years I have been pushing myself out into the world, trying to build up a portfolio and cv that allows me to work in the arts. But it's hard. I'm always broke. Being robbed was difficult but I have insurance and I thought it would cover me but it doesn't really. The value of the things taken and broken may not not be enough to merit losing my no claims bonus given the double excess which I will have to pay. It feels like my insurance company have robbed me a second time tho' I am assured that it is all in the policy booklet and of course it is. 
But it's all left me feeling like the path of straight and narrow, of conforming, being sensible and doing the right thing is perhaps a path that just leads to more straight paths with no trees, no flowers, just road signs telling me what I can and cannot do. 
I suppose that perhaps this connects to the new government in Britain too. It's all painfully tight and mean. And so my personal feelings about britain as it is ruled are similar to the rules I am trying to follow in my everyday life. The nice-ness, the manners, those things are lovely if they are true, and we all know and feel when someone is being good to us, when we are living an honest life, and we all know when it is a lie. Ibsen's play "A Doll House" springs to my mind tho' it is not a play I know well. 
And I don't know quite what I am trying to say. Today my blog is musings I think, and probably only interesting and useful to me, but maybe the musings are like the bits of work that are not really much but which have to be done to get to the work which is a little better. 
By the by I have also been playing with my indigo vat. And I found a beautiful carder bee nest, a sphere of soft moss, when I was cutting back the tall grasses and buttercups in my garden yesterday.