Build something
(Pandemic Diary - day 96)
From my journal: 2 June 2020 (Tuesday)
Late at night, steeped in words and videos bearing the very disturbing news of our times, unable to break away from it. Then I go to the garage to grab a beer (I already drank the ones in the fridge).
And when I step through that door, it grabs me, an ancient odor of wood, oil, spiderwebs and dust. I’m transported from the world of angry and impotent words into a world of action, the simple but beautiful action of creation, of building, of physical construction. A minute of that is worth an entire day of rhetoric.
“When it’s all falling apart and nothing makes sense, build something.”
When it’s all falling apart and nothing makes sense, build something. Take something apart and put it back together, take some idea from your mind and turn it into a manifest physical creation there on the bench in your garage. Counter all those notionals with some reality you can hold in your hands.
And then, tomorrow, do the same thing with all your good intentions.
You mean well, now do well.
It doesn’t have to be elegant. It can be rough and it can reek of sawdust and oil and spiderwebs and dust. The only requirement is that it’s physical.
From your hands. Real.