Thursday, January 13, 2011

Ask yourself. Go ahead--ask

From your own experiences with a lifetime of decisions, and from your conflation of decisions made and not made with story, it comes to you that decisions made are the risky ones and as well those most apt to bring interesting, rewarding experiences.  Decisions made on the other side of the equals sigh, decisions to not engage, to stay at home, to refuse the invitation or the opportunity,those are the safe decisions, the conservative ones.

You are not by nature a conservative person, although it is true of you that you will sometimes spend two or three days in a row opting out of opportunities with the thought of maintaining some sort of balance, of restraint, even decorum.  Such days are not memorable.  Often you are wrenched from them by an invasion of rebelliousness.  Sometimes a particular book or story or bit of music will rouse you to your bumptious, exuberant self, cause you to have had enough with restraint.

Some members of your inner parliament, notably the conservatives and right wingers, are speechifying about the virtues of restraint, of listening, of taking time for reflection and consideration, urging you to such hyperbole as acting your age, setting a good example, showing common sense, and a number of other tropes that seem to you as useless and ambiguous as some of the words you so dislike, words such as very, and reasonable, and remarkable.  These are all words that are difficult to quantify in any emotional-based sense.

There are times when you form temporary alliances with these conservative members of your inner selves, hopeful of getting their help in support of a particular goal.  You attempt to sneak up on Good Working Habits, for instance by the recent campaign of making your bed directly you awaken, stretch, and bound over to greet Sally, feeling pleased with yourself for having begun the day on a note of neatness.  After deciding to prepare coffee and breakfast in, or venture to the Cafe Luna, you take moments to tidy your desk, replacing pens, ink bottles, stacks of note cards and pads, increasing the sense of being embarked on a neat, orderly day.  Thus emboldened, while you sip your in-house coffee (Peet's Geruda blend, ground on # 5 for the espresso machine) of your Cafe Luna Peerless blend (a few steps down in taste but, nevertheless, a creditable latte) you take matters to their fullest by asking yourself the major question:  What is the major priority today?  The answer often stuns you with its honesty:  The major priority is to get to your writing, but if you do, you should still leave time
for these following necessities, all of which is to say that you recognize the need for some form of order.

For too many years, you have assigned the wrong priority to the needs at hand that lead more directly to your happiness.  Survival is important, but so too must happiness have its moment or two.  Ten minutes of the right kind of happiness can make a day of routine necessity seem bearable.  With bravado and exuberance, you could compose the two hundred fifty words necessary to fill a sheet of manuscript paper.  The odds are significant against those two hundred fifty words being keepable in  the long run, but they are a platform that extends itself, and maybe those two hundred fifty words will trigger another two hundred fifty, which might mean ten minutes needed to come out of your sleep time, but in such a case, you'll hardly notice; you'll sleep with contentment at having opted for, of having recognized and listened to your non-conservative representative from within.

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