You are not waiting for this post.
We’re only at the beginning and it’s not sure what it’s going to become. It’s a post. Words on a screen without a predetermined destination. There’s no requirement. No protocol. Rather, there’s a likelihood, a probability that something will emerge.
Sounds like a weather forecast.
My inbox is full of notices I will never read or even register. Announcements galore about products and publications, organizational milestones and upcoming events. They pile up under my radar and still I pay them no mind. They become a form of digital weeds that do no further harm than take up space.
At the same time, I still have a reasonable command of my attentional resources. I am capable of focus. I can read some articles from beginning to end. I can comment in ways that can help others make a decision “to click or not to click” in service to their specific interests. I try hard to respond to messages that matter.
Remember Dr. Seuss’s Cat in the Hat and the way he begins showing off all the things he can do simultaneously? “‘…that is not all I can do,’ said the cat…” Of course he continues to add objects and feats to his performance until it all comes crashing down around him.
But the Cat in the Hat recovers. Quickly.
I feel a bit like the Cat in the Hat during his “Look at me” moment, scrolling through Twitter, “liking” this, retweeting that, heaping more think pieces onto my already massive stockpile – and (consciously or unconsciously) expecting it all to come crashing down sooner or later.
On the one hand, I experience the ego rush you get from multiple (almost exclusively positive and/or constructive) interactions, you know, feeling needed, wanted, and valued. On the other hand, I seem to be satisfying an internal ego drive to show myself what I can do – look at how I read that, see the way that ties into what I wrote last week? I’m active, engaged, contributing, consuming and producing – all the things. Both without and within – I look busy.
No crash so far. But certainly pressure points. Or pockets of depletion. Or a mixture of both depending on the day.
All this to say: You are not waiting for this post. Yet here it is. If I had the energy I would share some morsels from my bulging stockpile of resources, and recommend writing of the most extraordinary kind. But sleep is more important and you’ll be fine without more to ponder.
We can take breaks. We can put on the brakes. We can slow down. Do less. Wait. Stop. Breathe. Recover. Decide not to play the Cat in the Hat. For once, maybe we’ll listen to the Fish in the Pot who is really just trying to keep us all out of trouble. (Disclaimer: I identify deeply with the Fish in the Pot and always have.)
This is the end. I’m glad you weren’t waiting for this post. You have other things to do.