I clean and clean and unclutter and reorganize. WoW, computer gaming, and clothes storage will be restricted to my office instead of my bedroom. My bedroom is being cleared of everything but bed and humidifier and will be a place of stretching and tai chi and sleep. My walk-in closet will be an austere room with only my meditation cushion and perhaps a small altar.
This I hope will help settle my mind — perhaps give me some much-needed sleep without aids.
This nesting has me dwelling on my life, or sense of lack of life as I’d like it to be. Life has always been defined for me as something that goes in one direction. There’s a goal in front of you, and you work for it. But now I’m discovering that life isn’t that way at all. It’s never been. I only couldn’t see it because I was so busy working long hours and being stressed out. That black and white definition is gone now. I have a clean slate before me. What do I draw on it? That is my conundrum. Will I die with my hand still hovering over the drawing pad, charcoal in hand, quivering, just “about” to make a mark but unable to?