It’s Wednesday morning, my treasured day off. I’ve slept till I was ready to wake and now I am lying back in bed, with the Iron Paw, contemplating the day ahead. There are three scenarios.
One: Allow myself to drift, to respond to impulse and whispers from the multiverse. Go here. Try that. Read.
Two: Clean the house, long overdue. This would take the whole day, given how messy I am.
Three: Harking back to my last post, do some work. There’s plenty to be getting on with.
Realistically, all three are needed. Realistically, all three seem about as likely as politicians behaving nicely.
I had a productive day yesterday at work, nailing down some hard to verify facts. But it’s not what I want to be doing today. My academic work life is one of detail, fact and argument. That’s the game and that’s how it must be played. Endless criticism, questioning, and scepticism. I find it exhausting and can never sustain it for more than two full days before I get, well, snappy.
In truth, I feel there is no place for me in this world of relentless productivity. Do more and more and more! No! I value roses, and contemplation, quietness and kindness. I value creativity and connections and gardens of all kinds. Things that may have absolutely no purpose other than sheer enjoyment.
No impressing. No performing, no innovating.
Just me, and the Iron Paw, being.