Twenty Mondays
Mondays are the worst ones. The days when you know from the moment you get out of bed an hour later than you should that it just doesn't matter. That you are not going anywhere anyway. That there is no time-clock to punch, no project to get back on, no mission to accomplish.
One, two, three, ..., twenty Mondays later it has not changed. The feeling of worthlessness tries to come back every seventh day. It is not me, it is not part of me, I do not own this. It comes like a shadow across the sun every seventh day. It is me, in truth. It is you. We all wonder if we are worth anything all the time, it must be related to mortality. If I could only do something worthwhile before I die, God, that would really be something. Not asking for that much really. We are frequently distracted from this topic, normally, ironically, by the fact that we organize in semi-productive groups of individuals trying to accomplish more or less insignificant goals. We strive against the blackness, toward ignorance of it, by being constantly distracted.
Those without work spend too much time thinking. This is a dangerous activity. Need new distractions that cause no permanent damage. Yoga. Climbing rock walls. Cutting wood. Any opportunity for mindfulness works. A moment of focus, outward and inward, but not on self.
I should take a lesson from my coffee cup. It is no less a cup for coffee, sitting empty and forgotten on a dusty shelf. Its purpose and identity are untouched by doubt or lack of use. It knows its mission will come again, or not. It remains a coffee cup regardless.
It is also an inanimate object. And maybe lucky for that.
Looking forward to Monday #21. But in the meantime I have worthwhile things to do, if I can think of any of them.
One, two, three, ..., twenty Mondays later it has not changed. The feeling of worthlessness tries to come back every seventh day. It is not me, it is not part of me, I do not own this. It comes like a shadow across the sun every seventh day. It is me, in truth. It is you. We all wonder if we are worth anything all the time, it must be related to mortality. If I could only do something worthwhile before I die, God, that would really be something. Not asking for that much really. We are frequently distracted from this topic, normally, ironically, by the fact that we organize in semi-productive groups of individuals trying to accomplish more or less insignificant goals. We strive against the blackness, toward ignorance of it, by being constantly distracted.
Those without work spend too much time thinking. This is a dangerous activity. Need new distractions that cause no permanent damage. Yoga. Climbing rock walls. Cutting wood. Any opportunity for mindfulness works. A moment of focus, outward and inward, but not on self.
I should take a lesson from my coffee cup. It is no less a cup for coffee, sitting empty and forgotten on a dusty shelf. Its purpose and identity are untouched by doubt or lack of use. It knows its mission will come again, or not. It remains a coffee cup regardless.
It is also an inanimate object. And maybe lucky for that.
Looking forward to Monday #21. But in the meantime I have worthwhile things to do, if I can think of any of them.
posted by wave_man at 11:31 AM
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