you don't say?

"Your work may not be done carefully because your heart is not really in it."

Yeah, no kidding. You didn't really have to tell me that. This has been my problem for a couple of months... my heart just hasn't been into it.

And when I say "it" I mean anything at all.

That's not really like me.

I've always really admired those people that can do it, no matter what. And by it I mean, the things that they need to do: a great job at work, meaningless but need-to-be-done errands, returning phone calls.... How do they do it?

Me... it's almost like I need to be passionate about something to do it at all. This may include showering [grin]. Not really, but you know what I mean? If I don't all-caps LOVE it.... It's pretty damn hard and painful to do it.

And so I fight it. I try. I put in an effort. And let me tell you, let's make no bones about it, that effort will be a dry, crackly outter shell of what it should be. Just without life. Without oomph. Without... well, passion, I guess. Or... I won't do it. I'll sit there. I'll stay home. I'll minimize what I do until it's done and then you know what happens? Absofuckinglutely nothing. Nothing. Nada.

So, three things. One... just do it anyway. Okay, so something will done without life... they need to get done nonetheless. And I have faith -- true, rock solid faith -- that the passion will come back. Two... pretend I have the passion. Fake it until it's true.... I could do that... but inside I feel like a phoney. And finally, three. Three... be friends with the lack of passion. Just note it. See it. Acknowlege it for what it is and procede to thought one. Just know it will come back. But don't punish yourself for lack of true-blue fantabulous intensity in the interim.

This has been my little lesson in the last couple of days.

More mundane stuff, for those of you bored outta your minds enough to keep reading.

I cleaned out some clutter this week. My theory: when you are stagnating, free up the space around you. I had this one closet that was... wow, becoming dangerous, it was. I mean you could open the door, but not much else. So... in a spurt of real energy and intention I just wiped it out. Went through it all: toss, toss, toss, toss. Mixed with "oh hello there, I forgot all about you." Then, this momentum lead to the next closet. Clothes, shoes, clothes, shoes, toss toss toss. This feels good.