to pause, to make an end
I have left this much too late. 9 minutes until midnight, electric blanket, a heavyhanded nightcap (not mixed by my heavy hand, mind you), lamplight, a book about to burst into glorious denouement.
Tonight we went to see Rosy Tin Teacaddy at Bats. They’re there tomorrow and the next day and the next day. You should go. I liked it a lot. The Big Man will say more than me about it tomorrow, no doubt.
Today I thought a bit about keeping moving. Rolling stones/moss, perpetual motion, the laws of kinetics. I think I was thinking this with regard to something in particular, but I can’t remember what it was now.
It made me think about this.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end. To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
I think it maybe had something to do with me walking home yesterday after work and thinking I have lethargy of the soul. And then laughing at myself for being so Eeyore-ish, such a Camus wannabe. I went from there to calling my self-diagnosed condition psychic sluggishness. Possibly it was just because it was raining. Or thinking about raining. And dark before the 6 o’clock news. All factors scientifically proven to contribute to soul lethargy/slug psyche.
The other day I was way up high looking down at the waterfront at Len Lye’s quivery water feature, whatever it’s called. Sometimes I try and catch it when it’s still, but it hardly ever is.
Sometimes there’s nothing else for it — for anything — but to keep moving. Keep blood travelling to the extremities, idle hands banned, the circling wolf from stopping by.
We used to observe in our mother something we called forward thrust. Sometimes we even called her Mrs Forward Thrust. I guess it was a way of being (forward-looking, action-oriented, extremely fond of tick boxes) that was mostly anathema to a teenager of my description. It makes sense to me now. With so many wayward chicks in her charge, there was really no other way than to force a bit of momentum, for fear of the whole Swiss family Robinson running aground. Sometimes — quite often these days actually — I find myself channelling my mother. There is some danger in staying still for too long. That sounds like something she might say, but it’s true.
But I’m just not feeling the forward thrust right now. However many lists I write. However many things I shoehorn into a week. However often I pinch myself awake in a stuffy office attempting to remind myself what task I was in the middle of when the brain fade seeped in.
Filed under: daytoday, slowness, thinking | 1 Comment
Tags: every day, movement, music, views, weariness