Friday, December 3, 2010

spinning wheels

one of the hardest things in the world to do is nothing.
we are a society of doers, a society populated with people who were raised to believe that do get somewhere, one must do something.
my grandfather was a child of the depression, one who as a teenager began working to support his family, one who believed strongly and firmly in the puritan work ethic. no surprise, this was passed down through the family to yours truly. I love to be productive, I love to accomplish things. I have been known to, on occasion in the middle of the day, add things I've already done to my "to do" list just so I could cross them off with all the others.
I am a creator, a builder, a producer, a doer.
in my business I take raw materials, build sets with them, and then ship them out the door.
in my writing, I take blank paper (or discs or drives or files) and a pen (or a keyboard) and bring into existence something that wasn't a short while before.
I keep track of sets sold, and I keep track of words and essays written.
I feel fabulous on a day I sell fifty sets or write 5000 words, regardless of anything else going on in my life.
I feel less fabulous on a day I sell nothing or write nothing, produce nothing, create nothing.
but I've come to accept the fact that these days exist, that this type of day is actually just as important as the ones full of production and creation. like the fallow lying fields, the days of busywork that leave me no further along in the book or leave my shelves just as full at dusk as at dawn are days that are vital to my movement along my path.
it just doesn't always feel like it.

this morning the "work" portion of our power camp workout was a forty-minute low-heartrate, high-cadence spin. our legs spun round and round ridiculously fast, and our hearts were told to hover in a non-intense zone.
it feels like a lot of doing nothing.
spinning our wheels, twiddling our thumbs, filling space between days of more aggressive sessions.
I didn't work my heart very hard, nor did my muscles stretch their limits. it wasn't a workout you could brag about, or write down and add to your "wow, look what I accomplished!' list.
it was spinning wheels, filling time, just one step above lying fallow.

I like being at the peak of the hill. I like being stretched to my limits, I like to be busy and to feel like a vital part of the world. I like the view from the summit.
however, some days I get to sit on a plateau. sit and spin my wheels. and accept the fact that some spinning is part of moving forward, whether it feels like it or not.

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