A Constant Process of Not-Falling
The primary bit of awkwardness involved in not-blogging is the transition to once-again-blogging; there’s guilt and embarrassment, and an overwhelming need to explain where one has been and what one has been doing.
For my part, I have been doing this and this and this, and most of all, this. Among a couple of dozen or so other things.
It’s all fantastically gratifying. But I’m aware that as I’m doing all of that I’m continuing to not-write. And I’m also aware that I never really feel good about my productivity, my focus, my creativity, and so forth, unless I’m writing.
I keep announcing here various stabs at breaking the log-jam of not-writing, and then find myself continuing to not-write, overwhelmed by all of the other things in which I’m invested and involved. This is not one of those stabs, and it’s certainly not a declaration of breakthrough.
But it is a call to myself to keep rebalancing my priorities, to keep remembering that my life outside my official persona requires actual attention.
It is also a call to remember, as I told someone yesterday, that balance isn’t something you achieve. Balance in life, I think, is like balance in yoga: a constant process of not-falling. Hundreds of tiny adjustments, every minute, that produce stillness out of motion, calm out of panic.
So: reassessing, correcting, recentering. Transforming not-falling into balance, and not-writing into something more.
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