Thoughts on procrastination 48 hours later / Not wasted time / Progress / Vitality

This morning:

48 hours ago:

Thank you to The Solitary Walker for the concept of swinging between procrastination and procrastination.  Now that you mention it, I can either be postponing some challenging task or postponing something I thoroughly enjoy doing  (-:

I think often of the header on Sabine's blog that says, "Live all you can:  It's a mistake not to."

Thank you to Sabine for offering a German equivalent for the word "procrastination." It's frühjahrsmüdigkeit, which literally means "spring tiredness."

Given that spring can be my season of greatest procrastination, I relate to Sabine's equivalent and find myself wondering if I might think of spring as a season for celebrating procrastination, using my yearly diminished momentum as joyfully and creatively as possible with my limited energy.

My MacBook's Dashboard gives these words for "procrastination."

French -- temporisation (as in wasted time?)

Italian -- indugio (as in indulgence?)

Spanish -- dilación (as in dilly-dallying?)
Dutch -- uitstel (as in uitsted time?)

And then there's:

"Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time."

Yesterday morning I had been wondering if vitality might be the opposite of procrastination.  When I am working on a blog post or reading blogs or out walking or practicing yoga or meeting at breakfast time with my eccentric friends most mornings of the week, I experience vitality -- even if in doing so I postpone other creative work and looking for paid employment.  The truth is I don't really want a job at this time as I am enjoying life in a way I never have before.  There is something to be said for that.

When I asked one of my eccentric friends what word came to her mind as the opposite of procrastination, she paused and then replied, "Progress."

Any other thoughts on a word for the opposite of procrastination?

FOG AT 7 A.M. / 32 DEGREES

Yesterday I completed the emptying of my storage unit. I feel as if I have moved away from a place where I lived longer than I needed to. It's a good feeling. Still have to sort through the last of the possessions that I brought home yesterday, most of which are books, some of which belonged to my mother and father. As I was carrying them into my home I thought, "If I didn't have all these books, it would be much easier to move." I'll be wearing a dust mask as I sort through them, letting go of those that I can't read again anyway because of my sensitivity to book mold. Most of the books were in my storage unit for that reason, but I wasn't ready to let them go completely. I remember how difficult it was to let go of my father's moldy papers from his college days because letting them go felt like a betrayal of him.

A few days ago, while sorting, I found these handknit socks which were a gift from the mother of a former classmate who came from Turkey to study at our local community college in the early 1980s. I love them. They keep my feet warm on this chilly foggy morning.






















Update: A clear sunny day at 11:30 a.m. after the fog burned off. It's 55 degrees out on the porch now. I forgot to say that the fog this morning was filled with the sound of the Canada Geese who arrive here this time of year. The swallows usually arrive within the next week. This is the week my daffodil bulbs will begin to bloom.

I am finding that I am able to let go of approximately half of the books which were in the storage unit. That half will go to "The Friends of the Library" who will sell them, and the money will go to the public library. My delight in the other half of the books is still strong, and I've made room for them.

Woman with Hands Full (1986)

Thanks to Bob Dylan.