I keep meaning to do things – write, vacuum, connect – but meaning to do things, and actually doing said things are very different animals.

I accomplish much in my head, but not much in the real world of late. Productivity is down across the board. All departments are experiencing contractions, save one.

Chocolate consumption is up. Chocolate bar consumption is actually way up, and there’s a part of me that’s amazed by this. I’m eating chocolate, and not engaging in self-hatred or harmful behaviours. I’m not thrilled by my current choices, but I’m accepting of them.

I’m not sure what to do with this bit of eating disorder recovery. It feels strange. Part of me wants to flee.

Acceptance is a tricky thing. It can also be a bit of a double-edged sword: there comes a point when an uncritical acceptance of how things are in one’s life needs to be replaced with a period of ass-kicking. Que sera sera is a fine philosophy some of the time, but aggressive acceptance can lead to inertia and wallowing if one’s not careful. It’s a fine line. *

I wish there were a switch somewhere on my person, like the volume switches on children’s toys, one that would let me change gears from idle to rolling. Unfortunately, there’s simply doing on one’s own accord. My children refused to even consider a cattle prod.

Not that I’m not doing things. It’s just that everything feels a bit wheel-spinning as I navigate what feels like chaos in my life. It doesn’t look like chaos, but things are in flux. I prefer my fluxes to be planned and gradual. I should perhaps send life a memo: give me a warning when you plan to mix things up.

If only I had her email address.

Luckily, I remembered the truth about motivation – it often comes after you start. You do before you want to do in this life, much of the time. See: mowing the lawn. Momentum (and results) give us motivation. Letting go of perfectionism helps as well. It’s a lot easier to get going when you only need the results to be okay.

Accepting adequacy is something we should embrace more often. That idea’s also a good segue: I’ve been writing some decidedly average poetry. It doesn’t flow as easily as it did once upon a time. Our poetry brains are a bit like our math brains – they’re better when we’re younger.

Perhaps I should also ask life about her recommendations for a mental Oil of Olay?

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Lateral Movement 

It’s been a bit since I felt connected to the world
I’ve written no poetry
Not much in the way of words either
I think about writing things down
But contemplation isn’t movement
That seems unfair
I’m a dragonfly trapped in amber – 
I am delusions of grandeur:
I’m a mosquito trapped in sap.
If I could only get out 
I would make changes
Turn things round
End up with a brave new world
(or not).
I will get up and get going in just a moment
If I could just figure out the correct way to 
Organize the books in the spare bedroom first.
That seems like the kind of thing one does
Before having a go at foot extrication.
The genres are bleeding into the 
Haphazardly alphabetized authors, you see,
And I know that if I could just figure out a way 
To shelve the tall books beside the short ones in a way that 
Doesn’t look insane
(I miss my mom),
Then perhaps I would start to feel better on the inside,
Especially after I get the plants sorted and placed in a way that
Doesn’t make me feel so agitated by the wrongness of it all, 
Making meaningful momentum possible.
I should walk the dog and brush my teeth
Though perhaps not in that order
And then work through the unimportant minutiae I like to prioritize over
Things with meaning
(nothing changes if nothing changes).
I will get to it all soon and perfectly
As soon as I remember to forget that lateral movement
Gets you nowhere fast. 

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*Que sera sera – what will be, will be.

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