Easter Sunday morning, half past nine. The central heating is humming away and outside the weather god vacillates. Shall I rain down a natural disaster upon these people or merely threatening them with wind and cold, black clouds? In any case he (or she) cannot make up her mind.
As for our part, we traveled down to our bolt hole in Italy with the faint hope of outrunning winter. In that respect, the effort was a waste of time. However, between the necessary smartening up of the place for the coming season’s guests and socializing with local friends, I would never say a visit to our cozy corner of Le Marche is wasted.
And then there’s the creative part. Getting away from home and its associated chores liberates the juices in the brain (sorry for bringing in such a technical term) so thoughts can run along different, maybe less worn out, neural pathways. Which brings me to the title of today’s sermon – uh…I mean, today’s ramble. (Don’t worry, although it’s Easter, I refuse to fall into religious mode.) (Indeed, I have no religious mode.) So…
What is a CREATIVE BREAK anyway?
Is it an interruption from your usual rutted routine that frees your mind from the box where it lives and opens it to more imaginative endeavors? Or is it, on the contrary, a foray into those very mindless, repetitious chores? While your body is busy wielding arms and legs in the fight to conquer weeds and rampant trees, or banish winter’s thick coat of dust and cobwebs, the mind has run off on holiday to escape the boredom and returns waving plans for all sorts of exotic schemes.
It depends entirely on the nature of your day job. And therefore, each individual will need to work this out for himself. As it happens, I took a several week vacation from blogging – which, believe it not, is not a completely mindless activity – to allow my neurons to bathe in the beginning of my new novel. While submerged, those cells are so busy – and outright ecstatic that they’ve been given their heads to run away with the story – that all other tasks are a pain in the ol’ proverbial butt.
BUT(T)…before we came down here, my neurons came up with some great ideas about where to take that story, and it all happened while I was bored out of my mind and thrashing my legs on the cross trainer at the gym. So a creative break can be a brief interlude at the fitness center (not ever too brief, as far as I’m concerned…) or a journey to parts south.
Sorry, I must interject:
Despite closed windows I am hearing the bells at the village church, calling the faithful to worship on this Easter Sunday morn. Even a few rays of sunshine broke through the apocalyptic cloud cover, if only for seconds, to underscore the joy of the occasion for those who believe.
Now I’ll end my musings and spare you my thoughts on Berlusconi, Pope Francesco, the Cypriot banking debacle, and why I am one of the few people who doesn’t blame Angela for everything that goes wrong in Europe. I certainly won’t get into the mess with the US budget and the question of why Democrats and Republicans are such two-year-olds.
One advantage of being in an area of limited internet access: for a brief while we can let the world and its problems pass us by.
HAPPY EASTER EGG HUNTING!