The harsh weather typical of our geography has got me in a contemplative headspace. Winter doesn’t do many things right but it does have a way of forcing us into our own minds to work on things.

Turns out I have ample time for this kind of work, and ample time for any kind of work I might enjoy. That becomes a classic case of “too much of a good thing” pretty damn quick, though.

When I have gig work to do, I may take a begrudging moment or two when I start to mumble about how the content is meaningless. But then I get to work doing what I love. So what little grief I have about the content itself quickly melts away.

When there is no gig work to do, I feel the need we all do to keep my hands busy doing something. This incessant need is what is driving my current contemplation, and it’s been an undercurrent of my thoughts for months. If you’re doing stuff just to feel productive, should it be judged the same way you’d judge any kind of production? You know, does it actually produce anything?

The tasks I put in front of myself tend to be the kind I zone out of while I am doing them, so I’d argue they don’t produce much. Then the day passes into night, and I feel comfortable relenting this need to produce. The evenings feel like a time to relax but that could, and should, be any time for a person in my position.

Relaxation is a funny thing. If you try for it, you fail. If you’re able to accept the challenge of letting go of your endless to-do lists, side hustles, and irrational desire to stay busy, you succeed and can relax. The trick is that relaxation is a surrender of some sort, and we suck real bad at surrendering to our cherished ideals.