Eating That Elephant

The water of the recently-filled lake shimmers in the morning sun, and despite the crust of sand and dirt on my kayak, my heart swells. Something in me calms and rests as I pull out with soft paddle strokes. I decide to go east this morning, instead of away from the sun as I usually do, in order to get a closer look at a shadow – what might be swans or brown pelicans. They are “just” backlit versions of the usual white pelicans, but are beautiful nonetheless and one lets me get close enough to see the black on his undersides. A great white skeleton of a tree looms along the shore, it’s size doubled by it’s reflection. It’s stunning, though I’m disappointed that no wildlife is using it as a perch. However, around the next bend is a cluster of four roosting white pelicans. All I needed was patience. I regret not bringing a camera. It’s the stuff that inspires writers and artists, both of which I see myself as in theory though reality seems to constantly in the way. A passing thought occurs to me – if only I could write while I was in the kayak.

As I paddle back, almost ready to rejoin the world, I start to wonder how it is I’ve done no writing other than blogging, while saying it is one of the main activities I want to focus on. A constant and never-ending wave of tasks and responsibilities looms over me. It feels futile to fight the tide, and to be honest, I’m getting tired of strategies that get me excited but don’t seem to help, and therefore never last (of course).

I do know I “waste” a lot of time. Yet, there is only so efficient one can be, and how does one judge importance? Should I resist the urge to sit and stare at the multitude of butterflies that my son has raised, in order to clean the house? Should I forego wine and chocolate with friends, over the discussion of a thought-provoking book? Both strategies would feel unfair and counterproductive. (How can one be a writer without pondering the beauty in butterflies and discussing books?)

I also do quite a bit to take care of myself. I have to, out of self-preservation. Perhaps, though, there can be some efficiency and balance found there, as I do often berate myself for staying out longer than meets my needs. Time spent on email is another area that both brings me important things and also has a lot of waste that could perhaps be reclaimed.

(As I return to the car I see a man going for a morning walk while conducting business on his cell phone. Already forgetting that I was just thinking of something along the same lines, it seems ludicrous at first and I have a moment of judgment before the empathy kicks in).

What I do know is that trying to solve this problem completely before starting on the next, of becoming a writer, is very unlikely to be feasible. Somehow, despite how much I would like the world to work in well-defined and completable parts, I need to find my balance within what is.