It's hot, to be sure -- not unusual for this time of year in the Sacramento River Valley. Except for mornings before 10 and evenings after 7:30, it's too hot to do much outside, unless you are dashing from air conditioned building to air conditioned vehicle. Or you're a farmer or rancher who works outside regardless of weather. I'm not either.
That's my excuse for the complete lack of motivation to do anything that I've felt for the last -- oh -- way too long. It isn't that I can't think of anything to do: the guest room is still full of winter garb waiting to be stashed in the closet. The work table we used to frame photos for a recent show is still in place, towel-draped, screwdriver gathering dust. My office desk has stacks on stacks -- unanswered letters, notepads, file folders, ticket stubs, printouts of now-expired listings. Mother's yet-to-be-filed taxes nag at me from the vertical file set unavoidably in the desk's center. The "temporary" bathroom curtains I hung 31/2 years ago pool inelegantly on the sill.
And there's more, of course.
It's just that I don't feel like doing any of it. So I don't -- or I do only enough to alleviate the guilt about not having something to show for my time.
The days pass so quickly, mostly with little variance in routine. They are lateral; that is, sideways, not forward nor backward, and they meld together into weeks of inertia.
There's been inward progress in these outwardly unproductive days, though. I'm feeling more social. I'm writing more, processing loss and sadness, and hearing the universe comfort me in the garden, in the quiet days, even in the time I spend reading on the Internet. There's always a daily message, sometimes in odd places. The universe gives you what you need to hear, even if you choose not to listen.
Life is too short to squander days with lateral moves. It's time to get back on the path, moving again, but not sideways. Even if it is hot.
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