It’s the first time in years, perhaps

(Six years building a dream,

six months seeing it fall apart and throwing everything out of the hot air balloon,

six months rebuilding in a new, better, truer, greener way)

that I’ve had a good long full—empty—weekend. Farmers’ Market, meeting about CC, pool party with friends, dogs and cappuccinos at Spruce Confections, dinner with a ladyfriend, climbing, watching dogs play in the watery ditch or a park, watching Curb your Enthusiasm Season Three Disc Two (twice)—

so this is what normal people do. I’d forgotten that “nothing” could be so full. Perhaps I do enjoy my own life. Perhaps I like myself enough not to do anything, sometimes. Perhaps I ought not get into public service, just now. There are good candidates who will serve well—there is no outstanding need for what I offer. Perhaps I ought instead to focus on making big money, building the talk show, working hard once more at building up my business so that I can help my mom—in only five she’ll be seventy.

Whatever your set of life dos or don’ts, whatever your contemplations, answers are there at the bottom of your stony watery ditch, your empty weekend.

For, you see, when you do nothing, a full and bright sort of nothing, sometimes—you see to the clear bottom of the silent watery coursing brook—and you may hear Nature whisper what you ought to do—instead of declaring from a mountaintop what you want to do, and then convincing all your doubting friend that it is the best course.

And now, Monday morn, I sit back at the laptop—twitter, coffee, blogging on wordpress, posting articles to facebook—the tools of my craft.

The fruit of my loom is information, and community, and meditation, and humor—these things that dissolve the slime and muck of a dark age our grandchildren should never have to inherit.

So put down your bleached, plastic-lined and therefore non-biodegradable to go cup, and pick up a reusable coffee mug—it is in small things that we spare future generations the poison fruits of our heedlessness. And perhaps I’ll put down my politics, for now, and pick back up the heavy elephant, and breathe life into it once more.

{my “Retote” is by Terracycle—made of unrecyclable trash in partnership with big companies like Tarzhay, Wal-Mart, others. Cool. Megan, in the middle, always stylee, with an African-made infinitely (just about) Farmers’ Market basket. Kevin Hotaling, at right, who’s planning on pulling a petition for Boulder City Council, has a reusable coffee mug. Also cool.}