gemini://gem.acdw.net:1965/page/2020-07-15-I-feel-like-I-have-nothing-more-to-say

Today has been strange. I've been feeling guilty for not writing here all day, which my logical brain knows is silly, but it's not in charge of my feelings. I took a COVID-19 mental health survey for LSU today too; maybe that's why I'm thinking about the relationship between my logic and emotions. At least that's what I call them.

I was trained as a writer and maybe that's why I always feel like I could write better. I'm too easily self-critical; I feel like all my writing must *mean* something or *do* something, when sometimes it's okay to just *be* writing. If that's the case, I think to myself, why then am I publishing it, no matter how hidden the book? I'm sure there are a number of you in the constellation of our shared space here that will read these words, and how will the affect you? How does reading your missives affect me?

I've been thinking for a few days now that the constellation doesn't update quickly enough. I've been used to the firehose of updates from the Big Web (or shall we call it the Terrestrial Web, or better yet, the Solar Web -- the sun constantly pounds us with millions of watts of radiation every second, whereas the Sidereal Web has smaller points of light, twinkling merrily in a vast black emptiness?), where every refresh brings more content, more images, more things to read and to look at, that the slower pace of the aptly-named Slow Web feels glacial, or even unfair.

I find myself wanting to slow down, to take in the roses, as it were. I've taken a few minutes every day this week to go out to the fountain in the park outside work and meditate in the sun. I think I've finally got the point of it all, just to sit and listen. That's how I think of it, listening. Since starting audiomo last year, I found that it forced me to really hear things around me, which grounded me in the passing moment.

I keep getting distracted by work, which on a day like today, when I don't have much I want to do or that desperately needs doing, is okay. They *are* paying me to be here, after all.