I am stuck. My usual ability to maintain focus and commitment have disappeared like last week's big moon. Slices of it reappear. Yesterday I kept two calendar appointments. But for the rest of the day's scheduled commitments, I procrastinated, started and stopped activities, made a list and misplaced it, and was grateful the list was gone. I want nothing to urge me into reluctant action.

There are deadlines pending, and in this moment they are distracting but not inspiring. I look for reasons why this, whatever it is, is happening. Is there a belief that if I understand the cause, I can change the effect? Even wanting to fix it — to change it — is halfhearted.

How do I describe this? Malaise? I’m not sure that's the right word, and I’m definitely not interested in looking it up. Kids use the phrase, "Yah, whatever." It fits. (I was about to add an exclamation mark, but it implies more enthusiasm than I feel.)

Often nature models lessons for me. Movement in the woods outside the window catches my eye — oh, leaves moving with the breeze. One by one they release attachment to the trees, their summer home. They’re letting go, and I watch as they twist and turn, floating haphazardly first towards me, then away —  no rush, no destination — many of them coming to rest on the pond.

I too am settled in my landing place, at rest here on the couch; cozy under my warm duvet. I take my cue from the leaves and let go. The lack of direction feels wonderful. I invite the "shoulds" buzzing in my head to go away: should get up; should answer emails; should drink water; should make calls; should exercise; should get gas. I remember something Lenny Bruce said:

"There is no what should be,
there is only
what is.”

Ancient sages extol the virtues of being rather than doing. I'll hug that thought. It's much less punishing than the idea of being stuck.