2:52 PM: I have had a visceral pull to sit down and write since waking up. As one thing after another got in the way, I became more anxious. My stomach tightened with self-imposed urgency. Even as I opened this file, even as I marked the date and time, it did not occur to me that I had nothing that I wanted to write about in particular. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready for action, waiting for instruction, and then I realized, I got nothing.
Perhaps this may be a sign that I am finding value in the activity in and of itself. That it may serve simultaneously as a daily catharsis and replenishment. A way to empty and refill; to, in a sense, rinse away the subjective sludge and phenomenological filth that impedes progress towards fulfillment.
Today I will be mindful of the tightness in my stomach. I will remind myself that misappropriated drive is nearly as bad as no drive at all. I will be present with others and do tomorrow that which can be put off today. In doing so I will not lose anything, but gain depth in my interactions.
