Idleness, It’s Personal.

My human, my self, requires idleness as I require sunlight and oxygen. What’s matured beyond perplexed self-reflected shame for what I’ve not accomplished, is gratitude for my ingrained instinct, for the survival and flourishing of my uniqueness. I simply refuse the yoke and always have. It’s turning out to be one of my greatest gifts to myself.

Yoke of career, of status, of any and all uniforms. I have no habits born of routine. I wish I had a few. It would be easier in many ways. I’d be on time. I’d have a calendar. I’d like sport’s probably. Goals would be less circular in setting and meeting. I’d finish the many books started, both reading and writing. (I will finish writing the two currently, just to be clear to the universe.) And it seems there are always at least two of something in the works.

And perhaps I’ve inadvertently stumbled onto the key of idleness, the ‘two’ of it or more accurately, the in between of two. I’ll explain. There are not 12 of a thing but 13. There are not two of a thing, but three. There is dawn and dusk, spring and fall, that sublime transitional membrane between light and dark, cold and hot, an admix. All membranes are permeable. All life systems are open (not to mean without boundaries). Without permeable, you have an airless, breathless quality, like cancer. There is always potential for give and take, for breath, for agreements.

To have an in-between, there needs to be present the quality of both, a golden setting light, a red spectral rise, a passing of nutrients, a dispelling of…