We come to the close of today, bearing only wine and peppermint tea and a camera full of potential photographs. We stop to note that a good merlot is a beauty worth the price of souls. We stop to remember how Sleater-Kinney used to be my favorite band and I'd forgotten until recently, waiting, I suppose, for my room to reach an appropriate state of flung-about-ness, the right ratio of t-shirts piled on the couch to papers scattered in the corner near the trunk full of art supplies.
If we spoke last week, I might have told you about how the so-called-to-me-apparent meaninglessness of my life was distressing me. Since that conversation (you remember, it happened over coffee and bagels. You wore that white shoe and I had a headache. We sat on the kitchen floor among dust and spiders.) I have since concluded that this meaningless is acceptable, OK even. Because I come to the close of each day and am done. I am tired and it is late and I go to bed early, but the deeds of the afternoon and the morning tasks are finished. A few odd assignments hang over the weekend or continue through the month. More often the close of the day is the literal CLOSE of the DAY. My stress is my own and belongs to no one else. So I find there is very little stress anymore beyond the usual stress of being a less-than-perfect human being in a world full of crazy.
I have time, hours even, to involve myself in Pursuits. I'm helping out here and there with Gutenberg activities and I can. I told a friend that it didn't matter how late a night of set up went because I literally have nothing else to do (unless I want to). In that moment, I said it to show how willing I was to help. Afterward, I realized it was true. Meaninglessness has lead to an ability to be present if I so choose. How delightful. What takes up my mind during the day ends with 5 pm on Mondays and Fridays, 6 pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays and 3 pm on Wednesdays. I say again, how delightful.
Which reminds me: See the picture up above? Play rehearsal! Everyone (if you're in the Eugene area) should go to the Tim McIntosh/Gutenberg production of Dante's Divine Comedy because it's going to be great. CLICK HERE for more information.
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