Lately, I’ve been wrestling with the absence of the urgent.
For the last year-and-a-half, my life’s been dominated by the dire, the imperative and the pressing. If I haven’t imploded (and I’ve come perilously close on several occasions) it’s only because I make a living out of practicing and teaching a discipline that’s superbly effective at calming down the mind-and-body system. But the fact of the matter is, the last several months have turned me into a seasoned firefighter, and now that there aren’t any fires to put out, I spend most of my days imagining smoke.
It’s not that there’s nothing to do. As always, there’s an obscene amount of work to be done: I just don’t know which to do first in the absence of an externally-imposed deadline.
And here I was thinking that I was the type to flourish in an “unstructured environment.”
(Goodbye cherished illusion #1006.)
I still don’t know what I’m going to do. But I’m pretty clear about the upside to all this, which is: there’s actually space. There’s actually room to mull options, room to debate possibilities, room to argue priorities.
Let the next round of chaos begin.