It has been a quiet day in Londres for me, which is to say I have had a little more mental space than the last few weeks. It was pleasant to have the time to bake and cook. Londres life makes it very easy to go days at a time without eating at home. I sometimes feel tension accumulating inside me, and realise that it is nothing pathological, but rather my body quite correctly telling me that I have been driving it to do a little too much. I try to listen to it a little bit more than in the past.
Listening to my body is made more difficult by my involvement in the renters power project, which can suck up effectively infinite amounts of time. It has its rewards, and I am enjoying in particular the chance to help structure a large organisation, but it would be easy to let it take over. And for what? Some drive for respect? Some need for attention? Nothing good, that’s for sure, despite the worthwhile end.
This afternoon I had to dig out some old documents, and in doing so discovered some old writing. What I have written about over the years has not changed a lot, but the approach has changed. I now try to write from my interactions with others, rather than from debates within my head. I am often surprised, looking at old writing, at how often it appears to me now that my focus was too narrow. I was too caught up in what was directly before me, or what was immediately inside me. Perhaps this is a common state, but I suspect I have been more afflicted by it than many. I have always tried to look outwards, but not always successfully.