Out of This Mud…
Mired but getting unstuck.
Life sucks. Yeah. Shit happens. Assuredly. Can’t win ’em all. Oh, Hel, no…Transitions and their relationship to this mud that seems to spread in totally unmanageable ways, over so much of our lives, often leave us feeling like there’s little actual solid ground (stable reality) in existence.
For those of us who spend a great deal of time in our heads, we can become unmoored, easier I suspect, when the physicality of life seems to shift in dramatic ways: a job shift, a move, a relationship busting…perhaps a person who divides their time between altering their physical environment (i.e., making/purchasing things) and the head, could possess already a sense of the lack of stasis.
Unfortunately, I no longer make physical objects as part of my job. I used to; I used to be in manufacturing, top-coating and assembling bathroom and kitchen cabinet products. I used to, very much, measure the value of my day based upon what I produced. How I altered my environment, by actually changing the structure of objects (spraying lacquer or sealer, attaching drawer fronts to boxes), added to my sense of constant change in the world. While I recognize that I don’t do so much with the physical environment anymore, part of that sense of valuing production (which I have transferred to my constant need to write) definitely remains.
