I woke up this morning thinking, which is never a good idea. It means I have to grab my iPad and jot down my thoughts before they escape. This uses up that grey-light time of early morning which could be more pleasurably spent in dozing, waking temporarily, only to doze again.
I say dozing would be more pleasurable and it would. In a way. A passive way. Writing is a more active pleasure. I fear I have allowed myself too many passive pleasures. I may be lazy.
My friends and I once had a long discussion about the idea of a Grand Passion–that soul condition that rules great artists, musicians, statesmen, inventors, and explorers. All those creative types. We tried to wrap our minds around the changes that would take place in our regular, everyday lives if we became infected with a Grand Passion. We wondered, could a normal person with a normal life even have a Grand Passion, or would the GP prohibit normalcy?
Frankly, it sounds exhausting to me. I suspect the Grand Passion could be a hard task master, and she would probably frown upon the amount of time I spend just sitting and staring. Being wagged about by an unquenchable thirst to create could wear on one’s nerves.
I prefer to loll about, living out my aptitude test results of “beachcomber”, picking up and discarding a variety of interests as I meander through my days. Grand Passion sounds like it takes too much focus, and focus sounds exhausting.
But perhaps, the GP doesn’t let you choose. Perhaps, she steps off the Pullman car of the Midnight Special, tells you to pick up her luggage, and with a flick of her hand, commands you to follow as she strides forward, giving you no opportunity to assert yourself against her demands.
Maybe that’s who woke me up. Just my luck. She’s a morning person.