I had a demanding interval workout on the rowing machine Saturday afternoon. My results were much better than a similar exercise I did last year, and I was able to stay more consistent from one interval to another, so I was pleased with my efforts.

When I woke up on Sunday, I felt okay—no aches or pains anywhere. All my energy seemed to have drained away overnight, though. I sat down on the couch with my coffee and breakfast, and then I couldn’t bring myself to get up and do anything else for a very long time. I just browsed aimlessly on my phone, with occasional thoughts that maybe I ought to do some spring cleaning or write a blog post; but it was pretty clear that neither of those would be happening anytime soon.

After what seemed like a very long time, I did get up and do some short yoga exercises, and later in the day I went for a walk with my husband. So, I wasn’t a total couch potato, but I felt that I wasn’t anywhere near being back to myself, either. Nothing whatsoever came to mind for a blog entry, and I wasn’t sure that I could put words together usefully even if I had a topic.

Monday morning didn’t go well. I had a woe-is-me internal narrative on auto-replay in the back of my mind, along the lines of, “Oh, yuck, the weekend is over already, back to sitting at my desk all day, and then I have to go sit on the rowing machine again, I’m so tired of having all my time and energy sucked up by these workouts, why can’t we have good spring weather so I could at least row on the river.”

Although I felt somewhat better on Tuesday, the blahs came back on Wednesday morning. That was even worse because it didn’t seem to make any sense; I’d had difficult workouts before, and they hadn’t left me feeling totally tired of everything for days. I put a “down under” image from New Zealand on my art display because it seemed to fit the upside-down feelings I’d been having.

New Zealand beach photo.

At that point, it occurred to me that my New Year’s resolution of feeling unburdened by self-imposed obligations wasn’t going too well either. That Saturday workout, however tiring, was not actually much more than 12 minutes of hard exercise, plus warm-up and cool-down time; it certainly shouldn’t have left me feeling overwhelmed by life in general.

“But you know it wasn’t just the workout.”

The girlish voice came from Dot, who had appeared in my New Year’s resolution post representing my to-do list personified as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. Toto trotted happily at her heels over the warm sands of the beach picture.

“It’s all the disruptions and uncertainty of the past few years, plus all the time and effort that went into better fitness. Needing time to rest and take care of oneself is perfectly normal. For example, when my Kansas house got blown away to Oz, of course I was terrified for some time, but then I fell asleep. And before starting out on the yellow brick road, I took time for a good breakfast. That’s healthy.”

“Okay, maybe,” I answered, still feeling doubtful, “but if it’s healthy, then shouldn’t I feel better? And why haven’t I had any energy to write the simplest thing in my blog this week?”

“Don’t rush it. Get a good night’s sleep,” Dot advised, “and write that blog post tomorrow.”

In addition to my regular work, I’ve been putting together a PowerPoint presentation entitled Resilience, Stress Tolerance, and Flexibility as part of a group that presents online sessions for employees about digital transformation and related issues. I haven’t used PowerPoint much before, and it’s interesting to see what can be done with design and images. I like this Lego juggler image to illustrate the flexibility needed in a work environment where the pace of automation keeps increasing.

A Lego person juggling Lego pieces.

(Creative Commons image via flickr)

Meanwhile, after a short break when the sprint season ended, my husband and I are training for the rowing regattas again. During the fall season the races are 5K, which is about the same length as one lap on our usual course on the river. Usually we row two laps, but we are now rowing three laps most days to build up our endurance. With the shorter days this time of year, we’re in a bit of a hurry to row that much before it gets dark, and sometimes we still have work to do when we get home. We’re also doing some online yoga and mobility exercises in the evenings.

Finding time to write blog posts has seemed like a bit of a challenge, but as I’ve built up more mental and physical flexibility, I’m finding that creative ideas come a bit quicker. The self-improvement advice that I’m putting into the presentation seems to be doing me some good in real life!

I mentioned in a recent post that I might change my Gravatar/WordPress image to a cartoon avatar instead of a real photo, just to have more fun. I’ve changed it now, and not only as a Gravatar, but also on Gmail and on my work Outlook account. A few other people at work have done the same, so it’s not entirely silly—or if it is, at least I’m not the only one. Here it is:


Because the cartoon image looks younger than my real age, I’m curious as to whether seeing it every day will cause me to feel younger and more energetic as time goes by. There are research studies establishing that older people actually become healthier when put into an environment filled with reminders of their youth, showing measurable improvements in conditions associated with aging. It’s an interesting experiment, and even if it’s a bit on the goofy side, there can’t be any harm in it.

The world felt unusually quiet when I woke up to a cool, overcast morning on Saturday. I got myself some breakfast and, while sipping Raspberry Chocolate coffee, set my art display to a painting of spring blossoms with a peaceful lake in the background.

Painting of spring blossoms on an overcast day with a lake in the background.

(Image credit: Linda Apriletti)

My mind felt quiet, too, like there was nothing I needed or wanted to do. That was peculiar enough to make me wonder if there might be something wrong. I didn’t feel like reading a book, browsing on the computer, or writing a story or a blog post. Nothing else was distracting me—no chores or to-dos demanding attention. What was going on here? Had all of my creative energy mysteriously gone missing?

I imagined myself stepping into the picture on the art display, but not much seemed to be going on there either. Just another cool, overcast morning with painted spring blossoms. I looked around for interesting characters and didn’t see any, so I sat down on an imaginary log and gazed out over the pond. A few pink and white petals floated by. A frog jumped on a rock at the water’s edge.

“Doesn’t this give your mind the loveliest space to wander?”

Turning my head, I saw one girl, alone. Sara, cheerful as always, had come up next to me while I was looking at the frog. The path behind her led away into the woods, and I could just make out the tiny tree houses of Channelwood in the midst of the spring foliage.

“Ella and Queenie both have been working hard since they woke up this morning,” she went on, arranging her long skirts comfortably as she sat down beside me. “There’s always something to do. Chores, projects—so many ways to stay busy. People forget that they need to leave space for imagination.”

The frog hopped off the rock and landed with a splash.

“I wasn’t busy at all this morning,” I told her, “and I felt that I had plenty of empty space—but, for whatever reason, there was nothing to fill it.”

“That’s what happens,” Sara replied earnestly, keeping her big green eyes fixed on me. “When imagination hasn’t been given enough space in your mind to wander around and make itself happy, it finds somewhere else to go. Then you have to coax it back, like a neglected pet; and afterward, even more time has to pass before it feels comfortable again.”

I pondered that for a moment, unsure what to say. Then it occurred to me that she was a fictional character, after all; so I didn’t have to come up with an answer right away. Instead, I could put this scene on pause until I had a better idea of where it was going.

After giving myself a day to consider the proper care and feeding of imagination, I returned to the conversation on Sunday morning. The spring flowers picture on the art display didn’t match the bright sunlight streaming into my house from a clear blue sky; but I let it stay there for the time being, just for continuity of thought.

Sara was sitting on the log where I had left her, although she wasn’t in exactly the same position. She had turned her head to watch the bees bustling about on the heavy blossoms.

“They look very busy,” I said, following her gaze.

“Yes, they never stop to wonder what might happen next. I don’t suppose that means they lack imagination, though. Perhaps that one,” and Sara pointed to a bee hanging upside down from a large blossom, “is imagining a warm and sunny day, with just the lightest of breezes under a bright blue sky. Maybe it’s easier for them to pretend simple things like that because their minds aren’t cluttered with worries. Imagination doesn’t come from idleness. What it needs, instead, is regular practice, along with enough space to grow.”

I glanced away from the art display for a moment, and I had to agree with Sara when—in real life—I found myself in exactly the bright, sunny day she had described.

My routine in the morning doesn’t change much from one day to another. After waking up and getting dressed, I go into the kitchen, open the blinds, and unload the dishwasher. Then I make my breakfast, which usually consists of two slices of multigrain toast and some fruit or eggs.

To give myself a fresh view of the world every morning, I change the picture on my digital art display. It hangs midway up the dining room wall, positioned to look like a window from where I’m sitting on the couch in the living room. Usually I choose landscape scenes; and to make them feel more realistic, I try to match the sky in the image to the ambient light from my real windows. For example, on Sunday it was partly cloudy, and I displayed a beach image with some clouds.

Beach photo with clouds in the sky.

(Photo credit: Roberto Christen)

After changing the image, I get my breakfast plate and a cup of coffee from the kitchen. If it is a workday, I’ll eat at my desk. On a weekend morning, I’m likely to sit on the couch and do some reading on my Kindle while having my breakfast or, if an idea for a blog post comes to mind, I might start writing it on a notepad.

What got me thinking about all of this was a conversation with my daughter on Friday evening. She is the sort of person who always has multiple projects going on, while also planning for more. In contrast, I have been doing the same work at the same company for many years. Although I know that the modern world has many opportunities, I don’t yet have a clear sense of direction as to what comes next.

My daughter was of the opinion that with so many possibilities out there, it’s best to pick something and make plans accordingly, rather than waiting for intuition to show the way. As an example, she suggested that because I like writing, I could make good money turning my blog into a business.

Although I appreciate her efforts to be helpful and encouraging, I can’t see myself doing that. Whether or not blogging can work as a career plan in the abstract, it wouldn’t suit me in the here and now. As I see it, I gain something of value from having my blog available as a place to sort through random thoughts, without the constraints of a regular production schedule. That value doesn’t translate into money, and it is neither efficient nor measurable—but that is, to a large extent, the point.

When I started writing this post earlier in the week, I wrote the first few paragraphs and then set it aside for more reflection. Now, I’m not entirely sure what I was thinking about my morning routine and how it relates to work possibilities. It had something to do with peaceful routines, unhurried schedules, and taking time to refresh the mind. I suspect it was a bit different from what I actually ended up writing, though.

And that’s okay. Because my blog is not a business, I don’t have to plan every post in detail and have it complete, perfectly organized, and ready to be published the same day, without fail. If other things distract me, or if it takes a little longer to get my thoughts in order, it’s not a problem and doesn’t feel like a failure. Maybe the value of that can’t be calculated or added to my bank balance, but it is definitely worth something.

Although this winter has been relatively mild, with much more rain than snow, all of those dark and gloomy days have given me a bad case of the seasonal blahs. I haven’t felt like blogging and, more generally, haven’t found much creative inspiration anywhere.

Yesterday I caught myself wondering if my creative energy might have vanished forever, leaving me doomed to a small, diminished, unimaginative life. I told myself that was completely ridiculous; but even after that, I couldn’t manage to get my thoughts onto a more positive track.

At that point, I decided it was high time for a visualization exercise—specifically, asking my 119-year-old future self, Fannie, what she (we) had done to banish those doldrums. Picturing a version of myself so far in the future often helps to improve my perspective, given the fact that whatever situation I’m bothered about in the present is highly unlikely to still exist after so many years.

I found Fannie outdoors on a sunny spring day, walking with her robot poodle on a sidewalk in a well-maintained townhouse complex. A light breeze was blowing, and the air smelled of apple blossoms and freshly cut grass. Somewhere close by, an electric lawn tractor purred softly. Daffodils in bloom gave the sidewalk a bright, cheery yellow border.

Photo of daffodils under blue sky.

(Creative Commons image via flickr)

The imaginary scenery was enough in itself to lift my spirits, especially when a flying car backed out of a garage and took off into a gloriously blue sky with just a few pale clouds. I stood watching it for a moment before I told Fannie about my writer’s block worries, which by now had started to sound even sillier.

Fannie listened with a sympathetic smile as I rambled on while walking next to her. After a while, she gave me her advice. “Just open the window.”

Because we were outdoors and I didn’t know what window she might mean, I felt confused for a moment before she went on to explain further.

“Creative energy is part of the flow of life. When we let ourselves get disconnected from the natural world—such as by being cooped up inside all winter—that flow stagnates. When I feel low on energy, taking a walk usually puts me in a better frame of mind. But sometimes I’ve found it is enough just to open the window for a few minutes, breathe in some fresh air, and tell that stagnant energy it is free to go on its way now.”

Fannie paused to glance up into a flowering tree where a robin was singing, almost invisible behind a thick curtain of white blossoms.

“If you’re looking for inspiration,” she finished, “don’t sit around the house ruminating about why it hasn’t struck you yet. Go out for a walk—and chances are, you’ll find it shows up quite naturally.”

I had a quiet day at home on Monday because it was a company holiday for me, while my husband had to go to work. The weather had turned colder, with snow flurries, and I didn’t feel at all like going out or—to be honest—doing much of anything. I put a picture of a frozen stream on my digital art display because, well, that was the sort of day it felt like to me.

Photo of a frozen stream with bare mountains in the background.

(Photo credit: Giuseppe Milo)

Sitting down with a good book and a cup of tea seemed just right, but I couldn’t make up my mind what I felt like reading. That reminded me that I had been meaning to install Libby on my phone. Libby is an electronic borrowing app; first you identify your library system and enter your card number, and then you can browse the library’s catalog and either reserve a paper book or (in the US) get an ebook on your Kindle. There is no need to return the ebook because it is automatically removed from the Kindle when the library loan expires.

I downloaded the Libby app and found it easy to set up and use—it took only a few minutes. Why I hadn’t gotten around to doing it before, I don’t know. For the past several years I’d been buying books from Amazon and, as I mentioned in a post last year, got totally out of the habit of visiting the library. Now that I have a convenient app, I hope to do better from now on!

We’ve had a week or so of sunny and hot summer weather in my area, after an unusually cool and rainy spring. I have been getting outdoors more often with my husband—rowing, biking, and walking. That sometimes leaves me with a passing thought that my blog is being neglected; but even when I am in the house, not much comes to mind to write.

On Tuesday, I sat down at the computer for a while. Instead of composing blog posts, though, I spent some time looking for photos of summer wildflowers and other natural scenes to upload to the online library for my art display. This was the one I chose for yesterday:

Wildflowers on a plateau in summer.

I’ll take that as a message from my subconscious mind—the natural world is full of beautiful places to explore, and it’s okay to get out and enjoy them while the sun is shining. There will always be plenty of time for blogging and other creative pursuits later, without need to cram them into an arbitrary schedule. Modern life has too much time pressure anyway, so there’s no reason to add more.

I recently volunteered to become the webmaster for the rowing club, which has had various people contributing to its website over the years. Without someone responsible for coordinating the content, the site ended up with outdated pages and not enough fresh material.

A blog post about our “spring break” trip to Tennessee, which had good participation and was a lot of fun for all the members involved, seemed the obvious place to start. I got some photos from one of the trip’s organizers, who often takes pictures of club events. Here’s one of me carrying the bow of a double:

Meg Evans carrying boat at Melton Lake in Tennessee

The weather was gorgeous, and although I got a bit sunburned from so much rowing (some peeling skin on the backs of my hands), it felt like a great adventure. I wrote a cheerful post about what a good time everyone had. The organizer who gave me the photos enjoyed the post so much that she sent an email to all the club’s members complimenting my writing, with a link. It’s always good to be appreciated!

Although I’ve been reading blogs fairly regularly and buying books on my Kindle for the past few years, it occurred to me that I hadn’t visited my local library in quite a long time. The library wasn’t something I thought about much anymore, in part because it’s so easy to research all kinds of topics on the Internet nowadays, instead of making a trip to the library as people once had to do.

Of course, libraries now lend electronic materials, not just paper books and magazines; but in recent years I had been buying Kindle novels from indie authors to encourage their work. When I realized how long it had been since I’d checked out anything from the library, I went to its website to sign up for electronic borrowing. Then I found that my account was no longer in the system due to inactivity.

I went to my local branch library on Monday and got a new card issued, which didn’t take long. There was quite a difference between my plain old white plastic library card, which I put in the shredder when I got home, and the colorful updated card that came with a keychain mini-card.

Library card with mini-card for keychain.

That got me thinking about what wonderful places libraries were to me as a child. My parents took me to the library regularly as a very small child, and I got my own card as soon as I learned how to write my name. Bringing home new stories to read was always great fun, as was scribbling my own “books” while imagining myself as an author with other kids happily borrowing my stories from the library.

Growing up, I took for granted that visiting the library was something I would always do. I’m still not entirely sure how I could have gone without thinking about it for so long that my card expired. When I realized what I had done, I felt kind of embarrassed, as if I had been guilty of neglecting an old friend. But thankfully, the library is a forgiving friend and is always willing to take people back.