Again, I find myself at the end of a period not having written a single essay. If I am honest with myself, though, this may not in actuality be an end. This bit of writing could be a single entry in a longer expanse of silent, commentary-free meanderings for me.
After all, there is nothing saying I must write every day. Save, of course, my wanting to be disciplined at some aspect of my life. There is a minimal routine to it all. Meals are prepared, some of them carefully involved, and some of them favorite fall-back creations. The house remains, though not always free of dust or of the outside tracked inside, presentable enough. There's now the greened up and growing grass to keep trimmed. Remarkably, we've not yet run out of underwear.
For weeks -- particularly through our physically demanding pine grove period -- keeping up with Meanderings was relegated to the end of the day, the very end. The result was a sense of heavy obligation and an unwillingness to retire for the day until the entry was written, proofed, previewed and posted.
I was up too late too regularly. And, something which I had set out to do -- to stretch creative muscle, to explore self-expression, to engage existence -- turned into something else. The term "bounden duty" comes to mind. I was missing the point. So, I stopped. Embraced sleep. Took a rest from the blog.
I know. I know. The volume on that adage I grew up hearing (you probably did, too) isn't much toned down. Always finish what you start. It's a good rule, one I honor mostly. But, it's not law.
Even it it were law I hope it's one I will not fail to continue to break on occasion. Discipline is one thing, as in pursuing good and productive and interesting tasks. Persisting at making every endeavor arduous and complicated and even unpleasant, which I accomplish entirely too well, is another. In such instances, not only can I but I will stop before I manage to finish.