"Shit happens," and, "Adapt or die," another truth of the universe, explains, in very simple terms, what life is all about. That's it folks, the secret of life described in two or three words without the disorder of religion to warp what is true.
Every once in a while, it hits me that Wally's days are numbered. The doc said, one maybe two years. Then I think of my own death, and with a slight calculation of years lived and years I may have left, the tally seems mighty slim. And what the fuck am I doing? Do I like doing what I'm doing? And if I don't, then why aren't I changing my choices?
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| Winter's Crop |
It is burn out. It's when you feel like the deer in the headlights. You see what's coming but you can't do anything about it. You fizzle, feel helpless and that makes it hard to look for a life line.
I'm doing okay. I'm adapting to the shit that's happening. I take a step back, a deep breath, pick myself up and get back in the game.
My solace is our garden. It's fussing in the garden that gives me a chance to step back, breath and feel okay once more. Writing is another and that's the cure for burn out, my opinion. What's yours?
Hi, Mike, good to see you're still around and, at the rate you're going, will be for a few more years, at least.
ReplyDeleteMy burn-out cure is writing, too...or maybe it's fighting to overcome writer's block. I dunno. It's been a frantic year, for me...but nothing like yours. And you seem better at adapting than I am. Keep it up.