It isn’t my fault. Sunday has a seductive vibe, and it entices us to ditch driving ourselves toward attaining the ultimate nirvana of productive bliss. Giving in to those impulses is easier when you are stuck inside, hiding from 90+ degree heat, 60% humidity, and the threat of severe thunderstorms. Nobody will blame you for wanting to kick back, relax, unwind, get lost in silly cat videos, and cue a binge-watching session of the just-released season of your favorite guilty pleasure.
It never fails. As you ease into forgetfulness, the evil voice in your head begins. No matter how hard you try, the whisper cuts through everything else. “You could be working, accomplishing something important,” it goads you. But just because you could be working doesn’t mean you should be. We humans are not machines and not designed for 24/7 output.
We are visionary beings, tailor-made to absorb multiple forms of data, assemble the impart bits, discard the insignificant, and devise a survival plan. If we want to create monumental work, we must occasionally leave our desks, observe, engage in life, and indulge in new and stimulating experiences. The human brain wants variety. As critical at gathering input is indulging in periods of idleness to allow our unconscious brain to process masses of unrelated information to problem solve and assemble disparate facts into novel ideas.
Sundays make me want to think about doing something productive but instead spent my time staring out of the window. I can enjoy the view, watch the wind play with the leaves on the trees, and anticipate the coming storm. I let my mind wander. Daydream. Do you remember how?
How do you spend your Sundays?
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer