Thursday, September 12, 2013

Barreling Through

The writing seminar last night at the library was great, led by a local poet who teaches at the governor’s middle school, a charming woman who brought an insight on writing that grabbed my attention. It came from left field as one would say, not expecting the epiphany that came, despite the many books read and lectures I attended on the craft. She introduced the concept of balance, between the individual and environment, a concept alien to me since last night, centering on a self-absorbed perspective, like a stream of consciousness approach popular in literature like Jack Kerouac’s ‘On The Road,’ in fact missing the balance entirely and, instead, focused on the self-conceit that is an attribute of journal writing or being a egoistic diarist. The hour and a half was well spent, considering the knowledge gained in such short a time; perhaps the impact was relevant because one was prepared, well-versed in the writing struggles and the theory of craft that her insight landed on welcoming ears.  The fifteen minute writing exercise was relaxing too, though I was self-indulgent and kept to the ‘me’ focus.

I went to the gym early this morning, waking at 5 am and watching 2 lectures by David Allen while I prepared my gym bag, grabbing the time to listen to his productivity seminar so I can get a leg up at work, then travelling to the gym by 6:30 am for a 35 minute workout in the tread mill. The day at work was tedious, jumping from one subject to another that one forgets what one has done, scheduling meetings,  writing emails and preparing a presentation for an afternoon conference, presenting and, finally, exhausted; the mind unable to ponder what to do next, instead writing a blog entry, a meditation that hopefully settles the mind. It is beginning to be a pattern, the late nights, watching HBO specials in a rush before the 3-month promotion ends, sorting the many books borrowed at the library, eating too much and neglecting to do the personal work promised to one’s parents, preferring to escape again until one discovers its midnight and tipsy with wine. Then the hectic day at work, participating in meetings and getting lost near the end of the day after barreling through the day’s To Do list.

The writing seminar was a welcome respite that one thinks he will join the scribbler’s group at the library, a chance to reconnect back to the dream, careful to digest the intricate dance needed to be a writer, attuned to the subtle aspects of one’s character like the dance needed at work. Discernment of the layers one discovers in one’s thoughts, interactions with others and the work that needs to be done, to increase one’s psychic bandwidth, instead of the heavy handed, barreling through of a bull, making its way into the light. I guess the mornings are best when one’s wits are alive and fresh which degrades as the day moves on, thereby losing the freshness of thought. But I have reached a turning point where one must change or face disaster that a tired mind brings or perhaps it is burnout that one faces. Tasks are lost that one needs to make a better list: write that email to the club presidents and schedule visits, write that email to mom and dad and check the other tasks needed to send money back home; all these things that concerns one’s personal life instead of one’s work life where making a list is compulsory. I think I should have done my Tai chi exercises this morning.

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