Coyotes howl, the moon shines bright through the window, lighting up the living room, enough to read by. Rarely visiting neighbors are up for the weekend, quiet and calm, so not a bother.
I realize today the reasoning for renaissance men, and women. When one pursuit becomes tiresome or bogged down, immediately turning to others is a fine way of wasting time while still being productive.
So my day. Thoughts of writing were shrouded by a lack of focus, and oppressed by a vague depression which revealed itself more through impatience and overall feelings of lack, rather than more specific blues. So, I become a bit creative, and learned a thing or two in the process, ending the day with something to show for it, even if it wasn’t the showpiece highest on my list.
That’s a good rule, I think. End each day with something to show for it, some little, or large, piece of creativity, however, defined, which would last. At the end of a life a person would have quite the portfolio of an imagination.
Now, though, my fingers seem to be rebelling, my delete key being used as much as my ‘e’ key it seems.
I pray I find renewed focus, and continue my quest back to a deeper realm of spirituality. If it is this difficult as my primary focus, I can’t imagine how far I would drift with earthly concerns calling for my continual attention.
Which is why, I suppose, God has me here.