housekeeping.
I love housekeeping. Or at least I have before. It always has come with a joy and opportunity to rearrange and collect myself and my surroundings. Housekeeping is a very natural and fluid process for me. I start by taking out any obvious trash or clutter that isn't in its right place. Then I start from high up in the room, say shelves and tops of closets, where I make sure to wipe them with a wet cloth. Get all the nasty dust away. Then I slowly move lower until there is no more surfaces to attend. Along the way I might rearrange some things, or if I am fully reorganizing I congregate the objects to a pile somewhere nearby. Finally I vacuum and mop the floor.
I have not been housekeeping.
I have not been creative.
I have not been working.
I have not been content.
I want to do more work but it just isn't working out the way I would have imagined. I have begun doing other creative and non-creative work, like photography (kinda) or writing this blog. Even with music, I have focused more on just playing the drums every week. Reading! I have been reading much more. But it all feels decaying. The release of such activities is much less than I expect of myself. Maybe I am romanticizing my past self and approach to everything. I have been atrophying much more.
Housekeeping yourself is a very important task. And it should be the main concern for most of ourselves. If you don't keep yourself healthy and well, you can't be of much help to others. Somebody very wise probably has phrased that much better, but still.
I don't know what the right path is. Forcing? Resting? Ignorance?
I am in a very beautiful place with wonderful people, yet I feel too distant and incapable of true connection.
Here's a picture :))
A bush. Somewhere in Bourdonné.