D and I went to Alexandria, Virginia this weekend for Easter with his mum (and many others). Spring is kicking down there, Five hours further to the south.
We spent most of the time indoors with family, so I didn’t take as many pictures as I would have liked. The new header is from the train tracks that run through the town, as is the photos below.
I suppose I’m really saving myself for the barrage of New Mexico images. Life is still hazy and a bit fraught. At any one time, I’m strung between the soft-focussed past and the chasm of the future, and must struggle with a feeble, fumbling effort to stay in the now, watching the plants grow, or one word after another. Being patient, living calmly. There are ways that people do this with grace, but I have never quite managed. In that way, writing helps – imaginary worlds require a great deal of concentration, and I’m able to set stepping stones, acknowledge progression, which I’d rather be able to do without, but still.
I’ve heard that it can be the same way with all work – for some people, it becomes their all, and they cannot do without it. Even the least interesting career (I won’t speculate here what that might be, but I’m sure you will all have one that comes immediately to mind) will, after many years of habit, come to be inseparable from your idea of selfhood and the rhythms of your day. Weekends are tinged with anxiety, techno devices constantly checked. How can we make our worlds sail evenly through the hours, weeks, seasons, when they’ve gone off kilter? Is it asking too much, to want more irregular regularities, when a very interesting and full life can be made out of the patterns? I have a lot of waffly thoughts about the performative nature of holidays, but that probably can go unsaid. It’s all very life-stage specific ruminating, not exactly what this blog is for. I’ll go dig out some interesting quotes on writing for next time, actually try to add to the discussion…