Someone mentioned knitting, and that helps, too. It induces the kind of meditative attention that happens in nature. And it feels good to make something, even if it’s just a wonky sweater or some weird scrap that’s destined for the bottom of the toy bin. I spent some peaceful minutes in the past several evenings doing rows of seed stitch with scrap yarn. I like the nubbly feel of it and the sense that I’m pulling something along with me. Sitting and basically doing nothing, but leaving something behind, too.
Writing is important in the same way and more.It’s a way of keeping track of where I’ve been. If there are words put down somewhere, typed quickly here or scrawled in a notebook with the idea of someday becoming poems, then I haven’t just floated through the week without leaving any footprints. It seems to matter, even though it’s hardly ever clear what on earth I’ve made.