LESS IS MORE


I am inspired by Haley Nahman's blog Maybe Baby to write my Covid diary. But do I? 
The impetus to fine tune my focus only calls forward the 100 other things I am doing in this very moment.
While I type this I notice I'm holding eye cream in one hand. I was about to do my face for a video addition to a live birthday greeting.
Which reminds me, I meant to gather up some images to add to that offering. But wait, I can't get to that app right now cause it is uploading the last photo show, which I find needs some hand holding. The duplicates and discarded files need to be sorted out to finalize the one professional task on my docket.
That should be done. But I don't want the real work to go away. It is the most grounding task of my day. Maybe I could create a delay. 
Or rather, I'm sure I can come up with some other real work or at least sort of worthy play in any case. Like my writing maybe. Once I have carved out some time.
But not before the laundry is put away, and August needs me  to oversee his Climate Change homework during a pandemic. Could it get any more depressing?
I should not ask that. Instead I should find any way to add an inkling of uplift in these tortured times. I know I have it easy.
I just reconfirmed my unemployment, which I am super thankful for.  The worst of my quarantine condition mostly is just this guilt. For being so fine. And for not doing more. The classic FOMO is relived since there is absolutely nothing to miss out on, but it is replaced by all the bemoaning all the offerings I ought to be offering, the volunteering I could be assigned, or the shift I should author while I am not doing anything else, or so the premiss goes. But meanwhile, there are zoom classes and dance jams and yoga teachers trying to give of their free forms. I haven't finished reading this article and the one tagged just behind it. 
The learning and leaning in and aligning with every movement that needs our numbers. The up in arms we must amass. And the solidarity we ought to stand with. I am exhausted from all this not doing. I thought down time would be more still.
But even that list keeps lengthening of all the sitting around and viewing I was meaning to get to. All of Lynne Shelton's movies made and her recommendations too, since she's passed, for a watch list as long as ...who knows. 
We do have to be up on all the cultural zeitgeist to nod along NO  to the far out and affirm YES to the well founded theories and thought leaders as we study up on economics and epidemiology to try to hold a relevant opinion on where our world might go from here. And how. As if they will ask us what we want and when.
The only voices heard are gun totting toddlers, twitter tipping cow pokes or shouting for hair cuts. Does it matter if I formulate or fine tune my own brilliant take? Amplified only by the tapping of these keys as I type?
 My soliloquy might seem soft, but it is all I've got. 
I want it to find some snow to roll in, and build it into something worth weighing. From a pretty little flake to an avalanche, the snowball roll has to start somewhere.
And at its core, melted down to its origin, all I want to say, is pretty please, let's just play fair.

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