My new treadmill arrived, so my evening program of exercise can now begin properly starting tomorrow. I also decided to start surrounding myself with things that illuminate and transfix me, to hopefully get my mind working creatively. I read a little - something I don't do anywhere near as much as I should these days - and I avoided my usual time wasting exercises. It occurred to me as I did so how many of my evenings I must have lost in some sort of torpor. How many hours I've wasted on pointless rubbish that led nowhere, night after night. Online gaming, I'm looking at you.
I watched a documentary on the works of Van Gogh and a couple of episodes of Simon Schama's History of Britain. For some reason I was feeling historical. It helped. Hearing stories of how colourful figures from the past lived their lives set something off in the fog behind my eyes. Made me feel awake for the first time in ages.
I was doing something that was engaging my imagination, which almost felt like a new experience in and of itself - I was taken aback by how bright it made everything around me. I guess I've spent so long with my head down and in a funk that I haven't set out to experience anything to stir me to feel anything else.
That doesn't seem like much, but the last six months have, with few exceptions, been spent miserably sleepwalking from day to day. Tonight felt important and valuable. Even though I didn't do anything but set up a treadmill and watch some telly. I suppose sometimes it doesn't matter whether what you do is new as long as it feels new at the time.
And yes, I'm well aware of how self indulgent this all sounds. And I don't care.
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