Looking back a few years, I realize how important inertia is in a life like mine. It’s incredibly hard to stop when you’ve got years of moving fast (and non-stop) at your back — to the extent that I’ve had friends gift me with physical reminders that I need to relax.
Like, a metal sign that sits atop my computer monitor, carved to say “RELAX.” And copious amounts of Xanax.
A few months ago, I stopped, finally (though my wife might argue that point). I’ve not produced anything worth talking about in almost a year. No screenplays, no articles, no short or long fiction. No website redesigns, no films. Nothing. I’m still working 60+ hours a week between my day job as a web design guy and my night job as a provider of Cirrhosis, still playing in the band, but nothing else. I’ve been catching up on DVDs and books, playing lots of Scrabble and Tiger Woods Golf on the XBox. Relaxing, right?
Starting this week, I’m going to reestablish the progressive inertia. I don’t have anything concrete in mind yet, though (as always) I have a million ideas. Looking down the tunnel in front of me, it’s unnerving: you don’t realize how much progress you’ve made until you’ve let it slip away from you. When you’re climbing mountains, you don’t look down — it’s not important how far you’ve come as much as how much further you have to go. But stop climbing, return to the bottom (gravity never sleeps, you know), and look up to the last flag you spiked into the stone face before you quit.
Scary, yes, but invigorating. Good to know that you’ve not scaled to the summit yet, when there’s plenty more time to go.