Underwear never sleeps

[pjthompson]

I used to do a lot more pondering than I do now.  Not the fretting, worrisome kind of things that too easily occupy the waking human mind, but the big questions.  The who-what-where-when and why of existence.  Pondering is important to who I am as a person.  It was something that made me feel connected to a deeper strata of the universe, so I made sure I had time to just think about things.  Some relatives may have called this “laziness,” but I called it “creative dreaming.”

Anymore—what with work and taking on a greater responsibility for helping my elderly mother—it seems as if there are always things to do, places I have to be, tasks, tasks, tasks that interfere with those golden ponder hours.  I have to carve out special chunks of time to get any pondering in, kind of like those chunks of time for writing.  Often the two are in conflict and I have to forgo one to do the other.  And when I do get a moment to sit and think about things, it’s jangled, broken up, a vibration dance inside myself that has trouble being still, constantly interjected with thoughts of things that need doing and guilt for not doing them.

Some of this, I realize, could be from media over-stimulation, but it’s also part of not being a kid anymore and the distractions inherent in moving into a different phase of life.  I feel guilty even mentioning it, really, partly from those old voices whispering “laziness,” and partly because there are far worse problems.  My elderly parent is not an invalid.  She’s still up and doing for which I am extremely grateful.  I do still have chunks of time to myself, even if jangled.  I should be grateful for what I have.

But “shoulds” are not golden; they buy very little besides guilt.  Certainly, shoulds do not build empires.  And the razor’s edge of all this, the thing that cuts the most, is that writers require pondering time.  I know for a fact that the less time I have for pondering and dreaming waking dreams, the more my writing suffers.  If I am struggling as a writer, it is partially due to that.  So pondering is not just a luxury.

I long sometimes for the serenity of an afternoon reading a profound book, one that makes my mind spark fire and sends the pondering engines into overdrive.  I  long for evenings in front of the fireplace, no one talking except the flames, mesmerized by their flicker and not-quite-understandable whispers, journeying through mental byways to that place where all flames originate, where fire has lips and tongues that speak plainly about The Secrets—if only you could recall them when your reverie is done.

Reverie.  What a beautiful word.

I’d love to ponder this some more, but I have to go.  My timer just went off and that laundry won’t do itself.

Mirrored from Better Than Dead.

Comments

[sartorias.livejournal.com]

I love the word reverie myself.

[pjthompson.livejournal.com]

It's beautiful in its sound and for what it conveys.

[kmkibble75.livejournal.com]

That was kind of beautiful...
You just captured exactly why it is I'm able to pass hours just laying on my couch with the TV on as background noise, bouncing things around in my head. Now I don't feel so bad about doing that anymore...

I hope you find smoe ponder time soon. Good things come from it for you, obviously, and the world is poorer when you don't have it.

[pjthompson.livejournal.com]

Dude, there is absolutely nothing wrong with pondering, quite the opposite. It's a writer's life blood.

[wldhrsjen3.livejournal.com]

Ohhhhh yes. I feel the same longing, and have the same difficulties actualizing it. Real life just occupies so much time, energy and mental space that finding the chance to sit and think and just _be_ is very difficult.

a vibration dance inside myself that has trouble being still And this? is the most beautiful, absolute perfect way of describing it.

Thank you for sharing. And here's hoping you'll get your chance to indulge in a good long reverie soon. :)

[pjthompson.livejournal.com]

Thank you. I figured I wasn't the only one in this predicament. It's probably a condition of modern living. Here's hoping we both get some good ponder time soon.

[safewrite.livejournal.com]

As someone who recently came off of a lifetime of everyone else's needs and emergencies, and finally has time for herself--some of it enforced by my being immobile due to a hip replacement, true--I spent a weekend on such pursuits. Friday, I did assembled a newly-stained blanket chest, Saturday my husband and I took a leisurely drive in the country, and Sunday after church we sat side-by-side while he read a book and I worked on A&A things at my own pace. The only thing better than reverie is "companionable silence." There's a lot of that in our marriage

[pjthompson.livejournal.com]

Ah yes, companionable silence is also a very wonderful thing. I'm glad you're finding time for yourself, very glad.

[darkspires.livejournal.com]

The wonder of pondering is beyond description. It is the space to connect to the universe in a profound way. None of this is lazy, or wasted time. It is a special time out moment to treasure.

c

[pjthompson.livejournal.com]

Completely necessary in the writer's life.