I got home in time to write this evening. Only, it felt so nice not to turn on the computer, to let my thoughts wander away, to enjoy the bliss of unreflection, if even for a moment, and, again, it felt nice not to turn on the computer.

There are activities which people do because of context, and those that people do because of ingrained interest.

I spend a lot of time in front of a computer these days, alternating my view of the screen with my view of birds and trees and chipmunks gamboling through saplings, looking left at the one, right at the other.

When the power goes out, however, a smile comes to my face. I’m disappointed when it comes back on. Such is life that electricity is a vital part of fruitful work and the convenience of computers means time, and paper, saved.

There is the part of me which likes to check email, which likes to see what is happening in the world through the lens of online media.

The part of me that I like, however, is fine when all of that shuts down, when my eyes can drift to an old fashioned book, hear the sounds of nature. I live in a technological world, and I take advantage of the fact to be sure, only the world of a hundred years ago does beckon.

A friend once told me she was easy going because of her adaptibility. My inability to find contentment in just any sort of employment was in her mind. I have my own form of adaptability I find, one which is less suited for living a life as this present world demands, but significantly more suited for living during times of crises. That is a pregnant thought and worth more exploration.

Maybe, it is the fact I saw King Arthur today and the call of the ancient blood stirs within.