It finally got cold last night, but still no freeze. My Angel Trumpet has still buds, and because the last week was unseasonably warm, one has opened and is exuding this beguiling scent, with two more blooms about to open when the Northern wind blew in colder weather last night. I do not know if it is here to stay, but the heating system is running and running.
Walking black dog last night, I thought how most of us are yearning for what we do not have. Is that what defines us as human? Is it the source of curiosity and inventiveness leading to come up with new ideas and things to fulfill an inner yearning for whatever it is that presumably makes us happier? I saw how the wild growing Four O’Clocks (Mirabilis jalapa) have died down and I caught myself thinking how nice it were to live in a gardening zone where the Four O’Clocks would not die at all. At other times I have regretted not to live in a cooler gardening zone were Lilacs grow. Never content – how about enjoying the path I am walking instead. It made me aware to be thankful for what I can do and what I have. It is nice that I can grow such a variety of plants, and I can enjoy and appreciate the Lilacs even more when visiting a different gardening zone in the spring. I need to get back to walking more - it clears the mind and fills the senses.
Today is the second day of writing, and it is so enjoyable if no classes need to be prepared, papers graded, and tedious administrative paper work taken care of. Writing week is when I take time for myself, meaning I only write and have a finished product at the end. No allowing myself to feel responsible to grade papers, prepare dinner, advise students, do laundry, help Teenage Daughter with home work, shuffle paper work around, wipe the floors in the kitchen, in short have my brain full with this never ending to-do-list and the cause of eternal guilt and thus paralyzing my creativity. Writing week takes a lot of preparation, have all books and articles read, only short revisiting of secondary sources is allowed. But everything is sitting right here on the floor or table, in piles or boxes and ready to be confirmed. Food is bought, partly prepared in advance, and most special spouse and Teenage Daughter are supportive and leave me alone when it comes to deciding which sweater to wear or movie to see. Writing week is such a luxury, and only recently I have learnt to take that time for myself. And then again, why should it be luxury? Research is part of my assignment as a professor. I should not feel guilty at all to think only about myself and the project at hand, but rather enjoy it and let the creativity flow. Show me the button where I can turn off the to-do-list of paralysis.