These past few days have been a time of getting everything straight. Started the New Year with a burst of work, then everybody left on Friday morning, and that triggered an urge to spend more time with the laundry, the still-up Christmas decorations and in due course (inevitably) the furniture moving. Every space (okay, the ones that matter) to be made new. Nearly there, so let's assume that the next task - clearing and vacuuming a space, moving a chest of drawers into it - can be taken as symbolic of this whole moment.
I choose to sustain the pace of work. So instead of "getting round to it", I'm actually going to do it. [Pause.] Space cleared. [Pause.] That's the vacuuming. Not sure whether it's the <multitasking> or the <actually getting something done> that feels good, but I wonder if I could live this whole life - my whole life, mine; it's to be lived - between the punctuation marks of a blog post. [Pause.] One chest of drawers, moved. Later this morning - a contemplative, take-time activity - go through the contents of the drawers before putting them back. I've been stepping past that chest of drawers for weeks; in that particular way, the space around me (my space, etc.) is no longer mildly, below-the-radar inconvenient.
This I have done before. This I will do again. Renewal. As that which is to be renewed, reveals itself. Question for the day: where is <choice> in suddenly recognising the <rightness> of something, somewhere, some action? A higher place? Is this the higher place? Grey morning with birdsong. Filament branches, so delicate, not quite black, just under the surface of the foggy sky.