A Constant Process of Not-Falling
The primary bit of awkwardness involved in not-blogging is the transition to once-again-blogging; there’s guilt and embarrassment, and an overwhelming need to explain where one has been and what one has been doing.
It’s all fantastically gratifying. But I’m aware that as I’m doing all of that I’m continuing to not-write. And I’m also aware that I never really feel good about my productivity, my focus, my creativity, and so forth, unless I’m writing.
I keep announcing here various stabs at breaking the log-jam of not-writing, and then find myself continuing to not-write, overwhelmed by all of the other things in which I’m invested and involved. This is not one of those stabs, and it’s certainly not a declaration of breakthrough.
But it is a call to myself to keep rebalancing my priorities, to keep remembering that my life outside my official persona requires actual attention.
It is also a call to remember, as I told someone yesterday, that balance isn’t something you achieve. Balance in life, I think, is like balance in yoga: a constant process of not-falling. Hundreds of tiny adjustments, every minute, that produce stillness out of motion, calm out of panic.
So: reassessing, correcting, recentering. Transforming not-falling into balance, and not-writing into something more.