Friday, September 21, 2012
There are so many things that make me happy. A good meal. Sunlight on trees. The crisp autumn air. My kids tucked in my arms. My husband holding my hand.
There are things that make me happy, that are hard for me to find time for. Books. Pleaure reading--the ultimate escape. And near twin to that is the pleasure of writing. Typing here in this blog, or indulging in masochistic attempts at fiction. Frankly, writing is not always pleasure for me--but I find it important for mental health. If I go too long without writing something down, I feel unsettled. If I go too long without escaping into fiction-reading, I begin to feel twitchy.
I am trying to run regularly. It's not always easy. It often sucks while I'm doing it, but it feels so good to have done it. That's what writing is like.
And it's not easy to find the time for running, either. September has been a bitch, throwing road blocks almost weekly into my exercise schedule. I know it's necessary for physical health. I know it's important for mental health. But between work and family responsiblities, it's so hard to find time.
Hard to find time for reading and writing. To find time for the joys that are independent of work and family.
Cloud alludes to this in her latest wonderful post on parenting and working and living at her blog Wandering Scientist. There are things in our lives that are sources of joy that are separate from our work lives and family lives. . . and so hard to fit in, when work and family are enough in themselves to overwhelm us.
There is so much hype about "virtual reality", new immersive technologies, 3-D films that will make you feel like you're really there in a movie. But to date, the most powerful virtual reality technology ever invented remains the old-fashioned book.*
*including books in e-format. Although I still prefer the old-fashioned paper kind.