There are some days that I don’t know how to live. I mean, I could do one part of my work or another, clean a closet instead, take a walk or do yoga, make a pot of soup, or simply do what I’ve been doing for an hour: staring out the window without seeing much, sipping coffee, checking facebook and email, and thinking about playing Typing Shark on line, all of which don’t seem to be the right thing. This is to say that out of all of life’s great possibilities at the moment, I’m inadvertently choosing to waste my time.
Part of my problem has to do with what I hold on my lap right now: a lapbook, which enables me to work a little around the edges all the time. I find it increasingly hard to stop planning an event, revising a document, checking on an endeavor. So maybe I’m just not wasting time at the right time of the day. At the same time, I’m aware that I’m freakishly lucky to get to work at home or in coffeehouses on projects largely of my own creating.
I know that wasting time, after a certain point of course, doesn’t really restock the well or serve me. So picked up the phone, made a date with a friend to take a long walk, opened a big document of the novel in progress, and told myself that after the walk, I’ll play in that world even if it’s a day when I don’t know so well what to do, how to live and what it means to be here. Meanwhile, just writing this blog points my attention to the birds popping off one branch onto another right outside this light-filled window.