Jackie working in office with me. Did call with leads group partner, now me at desk. Two calls scheduled for day. Posted twice to wine blog project, which will eventually be shop one day soon, last night. Will write on Pinot from last night, at some point today. 8.5 hours into fast. Planning on a big run today, right around noon. Another lesson from this quarantine is timing… what to do at certain points in the day. During the day, typically, for notes. And, everything in real-time. Sit on nothing. Just post it, publish it, put the written and created life into the world.
Jackie draws or writes something, I think about today’s run, and how everything must come from my miles. Be it 4-something like two days ago, or eight like earlier in the week. Or was that 7? Either way, running is the model, mode, what to follow. With Jackie working in the office with me I’m reminded of me being a dad. HIS, and Emma’s father. They look to me for a model, something to follow, or mimic. A template yes, but more a visual. The expected.
Finishing the wine fiction I started yesterday, and then as I just jotted in the BW journal, write a 500-word essay on something concerning movement, production, making happy the SELF. Onus… the word with which I literally began my teaching life. Would say to students, and even put it on syllabi, “The onus is on you.” Such is reminding me and me then, what I said, and how I need make tangible for self what I told the students. Don’t stop writing, and when you come to a stoppage or stall, some lull in your lines, come back to writing… come back to YOU. What does [YOUR NAME, FIRST AND LAST] want, need, demand of self.
Today I’m releasing 5 HEAVY communications. All positive, and all poetic somehow. Be it actual verse, or just in its elemental actuality. Sonic speaks of revolution… so I tell myself I, that WE, need be more revolutionary. Take more risks, I guess, but just move. Too much meditation assures hesitation.
Jack moves around, project to project behind. He doesn’t stop in his work, sharpens a pencil… “I have my own sharpener.” He tells me. Moves more, moves around some fixtures and essentials to his work area. Tells me he’s going to copy a book he typed and made for a school project, but by hand. He doesn’t stop, or think. He moves. That’s what I study.
I’m here, at my desk, in this quarantine but not kept in any one place. My attentions and creativity meander and wander, go where they want. Talking to someone recently and they tell me about certain struggles of theirs in this covid time, how life is at home and with business… and I keep thinking about the value of meditation, writing it. Writing to self is not just writing to self for sakes of keeping a diary, or even reflection. It’s the consistency of self-reminding. That you’re ALIVE, that you have opportunity in everything, especially sheltering in place.