To listen to this post, please click here: Cleared For Take-Off
Like dust. Worse. Like rust on my desk: two or three months’ worth of unprocessed paperlife. Not bills, you understand– all the really urgent stuff got done. But filing and questions and forms. Matted, as ever, with perfect excuses: travel, performance, submissions, and family and friends.
(Not only that, but here in the Age of Distraction we have hyper-super-ultra-extra other ways to duck and cover.)
Pussyfooting around my desk, I thought I was postponing discomfort. Truth is, I felt it everytime I entered my office.
Once I faced that heap of indecision, I found two funny pockets of irrationality. First: Stern verdicts are called for: imprison things in the file cabinet or slay them in the wastebasket. Seated at last, sorting and tossing, I smiled. Silly fear, as if letting paper go is letting go of people or events. As if memory were made of paper.
But clearing the desk feels like a waste of creative time. I could be making something new! Rust eats whatever is beneath it. A desk is space for new creation.
Making space is never a waste of time, just as making time is never a waste of space.
The shadow side of our wildly entertaining Age of Distraction it corrodes our Age of Satisfaction. But with bit of inner elbow grease, we are cleared for take-off.