Caught by the Blocks

Teaching myself to write like I really don’t care. Freeing mySelf with this window, how it provides the optimal perspective of a vineyard block. With positive pulses, all turns. I’m not doing negative anymore. And I like I recently wrote, quitting it like smokers quit putting those butts to their lips. So beautiful outside, but I’m in the office. ‘Least I can see outside, what’s outside, the vines moving with the wind and the trees trying to copy their swaying and dancing. Writing and reading to keep alive, stay awake and sane. No problem being here in the office, just my mind and those dreams I mentioned earlier are not just distracting me but capturing me and holding my concentration in some sort of hostage-hold. Can’t figure it out, can’t figure me out right now, but I’m dreaming and my dreams are forcing me to dream more dreams and think of more possibilities, and like I read on a blog this morning: think of the end, the result and solution, the reward for your work. Something like that.
If I’m my own instructor, I need to be more planned with my lessons, I’m noticing. And, I can’t act like I don’t care, because I do. About everything. And everything I do. I think what I meant to say was something like ‘write more freely, less constrained and concerned’… The day rolls onward and me with it. I just keep thinking and thinking, planning and probably overthinking. No negative steps, I lift my head and look out at the vineyard, all its blocks and varying rows. Again. It tells me to keep staring, it doesn’t mind. So I stare a little longer and breathe, pretend I’m walking out there. Not writing, not planning or thinking, or even dreaming. Just walking.
The vineyard becomes my office in this envisage, and I catapult mySelf further into this Self-instruction. More wealth in terms of inner-equilibrium and music. One sentence at a time, one hit of the snare at a time. Making my rhythm MY rhythm that signifies and staples my senses to my pages and continuation of narrative. Again stare outside and know there’s more story out there. Why do I keep calling it ‘out there’? Like it’s universes away, and unattainable. It’s the vineyard, not ‘out there’. It very much keeps me alive, this view. I don’t even want to think about how many Americans wish they had an office view like this. Like I said, I don’t mind being here, at this desk, at all. In fact, it’s freeing, dream-like. It teaches me about the truest me.
As the day winds down, just after 4PM, I can let the stares and low lid peers go on for a bit longer than usual. Being held, longer. Pleasantly a hostage of this visual. I honestly am not looking forward to leaving work. How many can say that? The winds gets a bit more rhetoric to its dances, and I watch through the other window. We all need to do this, just stare, watch, observe. That is work. It’s challenging for us to let go. But ironically, my work makes it effortless. That’s why I dread 5 o’clock. My view is taken from me. No more lesson for the day.