“Each of us is a mixture of fact and fiction, a weaving of tales in our real bodies.”

Imagination is not an idle pastime, but real work I believe. What we know about and what is true about ourselves is not “just the facts.” The truth of the line from a pretty weird novel, Beatrice and Virgil, by Yann Martel that begins this post comes to my mind often.

That is what I am, a mixture and that is messy. That is why it is so hard to pay attention to my life sometimes. I don’t always know “what” to pay attention to really. For the past few days I have been working with focus in my professional roles. I realized this morning that, that has been a gift. The work is difficult but not overwhelming. Instead of just thinking about what I need to do, I am actually getting words down on the page (the job at hand). When, I get stuck I do something to help myself like walking the dog, centering prayer, cleaning something small or even re-imagining my work in different ways—that has been productive. Imagining leads me to actions that are true.

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