Yeah, I know. I’ll
spare you the details of my existential crisis.
I’ll just say that June was a challenging month, during which I didn’t
feel particularly creative. I neither
shot nor traveled much.
This sort of discomfort has a purpose, though. It urges us to look at the big picture and to
consider new perspectives, especially mental ones. After all, when we’re happy,
we’re unlikely to be motivated to learn and grow. We don’t want to change anything.
Paul Andrews proposed the “Analytical Rumination
Hypothesis” (I’ll be brief, I promise) which posits that, when we have
tough stuff to sort out, we need to focus on these issues while avoiding
distracting stimuli and activities. When
we feel lousy we avoid most everything, so everyday slumps have a purpose. Fascinating stuff, but this perspective
doesn’t make these interludes feel more pleasant.
Beer with a view, San Clemente CA |
Looking back, I see that I was doing some of these things
instinctively.
Many of you know that my husband and I are enduring the
thousand tiny decisions inherent in building a house. Then there’s the challenge of putting the
other house on the market, firing an unprofessional real estate agent, and
being unsure whether I’m arriving or departing.
My computer, camera gear, and I now live in Yarnell. We’re mostly getting mail here and, though we
have just 700 square feet, Marco and I are managing to get along. I admire Tiny
House People but, in my family, we do better with a bit more space.
So, I’m feeling rather overwhelmed, but there have been
precious opportunities to distract myself with other kinds of work. House décor decisions are creative. Sort-of.
I did have a road trip planned mid-month, but instead was
laid up with a health issue. While on
involuntary R & R, I started scrolling through my Facebook photo feed and
was reminded of the richness and blessings in my life. I shook myself by my figurative shoulders and
felt a bit better; perhaps a bit less sorry for myself.
San Clemente Pier |
Dykinga Reception, Etherton Gallery, Tucson |
Or, perhaps a “bliss station.”
Burrowing Owlets |
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