For us early risers, there are two ways to wake up. When the alarm trills, the default is to lie in bed working up the willpower to heft up the reluctant body. Another choice is simply to rise and get on with it. Such a sweet, steadfast beginning to the day!
Lucky Bat, Darwin. I can’t. Cannot. Bedazzled blank brain.
Breathe and write small phrases. Calm. All it takes to build a book is today’s work repeated.
Is working more congenial in thirty-plus degrees under a blue sky, than amidst cloudy zero degrees? No difference. All that counts is taming the monkey mind and addressing the page.
Volume I breeds more complexity as a first volume than when it lived in a one-volume book. I’m working well on it and am still targeting the end of the year but quite what it will look like, or when I can aim the other two volumes for, or all the other planning goals I desperately need . . . all feels like it’s in limbo.
Let me live with limbo for a couple more weeks. Then certainty must cohere. Surely it must.
Only one of the three Big Years is unfolding out as planned but all are alive and kicking:
- Writing: I’m not fulfilling the precise daily requirements set on January 1, but boy, am I working well and hard each morning. I’m hoping soon to focus more on plans and weekly goals.
- Fitness: all my 2017 kilometer goals are up in the air, partly due to injury, partly due to favoring writing ahead of exercise, but hey, I’m out there each and every day, and for that I should be thankful.
- Rock music: 60 albums heard in entirety, 60 Pinterest reviewlets done. Wonderful!
A plotting morning at Lucky Bat was so immersive that when I looked up, all the clocks/watches/devices said 2 o’clock.
Teeth gritted, this week I’m pursuing the history of aspects of reactors, their economics and climate change amelioration. I’m deep into mtco2e, ¢/kWhr & $/kW. Phew!
I’m working quite hard but not, perhaps, on the main thing. It’s always a puzzle: what to do right now, what to do tomorrow . . . what plans to put in place, how to get them launched.
I wrote a while back about Bronson Botha and his “500 days of sobriety.” I’d interviewed him. His resoluteness has lingered with me, and after posting recently about my love of wine “in moderation” and my qualms, I decided to banish wine for a while. This would be my own, more modest, stretch of abstinence. I called it my “X days of sobriety.”
Why not put a number to X, say 5 or 50 or 500? Why not just do Dry July and its 31 alcohol-free days? The answer is simple: I’m conflicted, don’t know what I should do, and have little faith in my willpower on this issue.
I haven’t even been prepared to put a name to this period until now. I haven’t drunk wine since Saturday the 3rd, so X is already 10. 10 days: what will it grow to?