The truth is, folks, that I haven’t written much in this here first month of my new schedule without a full-time job. Part of the reason is because I am busy with work I enjoy and people I appreciate. Part of the reason is that I have some other things to think about – like moving and such. Part of the reason is that I don’t feel like I have much to say at the moment. Perhaps this third reason is just an excuse; perhaps it’s simply a result of the other two reasons; perhaps it’s not really a reason at all and I just don’t know it because I’m not sitting to write very often. Yet, the truth is I simply can’t see myself writing at the moment, and honestly, I’m okay with that – most of the time. It’s only when I get caught up in that “should” mentality that we as humans celebrate and we as Americans perfect that I start to feel guilty. Most of the time, I feel good about the place where I am.
Instead of writing, I am doing more reading these days. Yesterday, I finished the first section of Barry Lopez’s About This Life. The book is a collection of travel/nature essays that explore the complexities of experience here on earth. From following the path of freight travel around the world to examining the tensions of human and other natural life on the Galapagos, Lopez delves into what it means for him to be a part of these experiences. It’s a really stirring book to read, and the images he recreates are enough to make me start banking frequent flier miles.
I’m also inching my way, still, through Gaiman’s Anansi Boys. I find the concept of the book very interesting – folklore twirled with mystery spun with thriller – but I am just having trouble sticking with it. I expect some folks would say I picked the wrong book to start with my Gaiman reading, but I will stick with it and try again with some other works.
Thus, I am not reading, but I am trying to fill up my word well a bit so that I can be ready when I am ready, if that makes sense. It will come, I trust, and if it doesn’t, something else will. Until then, I read, I wait, I work . . . just like we all do.