I feel like a reading of the "I Ching" today -- no, I don't feel like reading the I Ching -- I feel the way such a reading might sound:

It profits one to cross the great water.  Mountain and strength in the first set displays calmness and determination.  Water and acceptance in the second set is a sign of yielding before the confrontation by the change in the last few lines. 

I'm in a struggle bounded by a diminishing writers' block on one side, the need to produce something with both polish and value on another, resistence to perfectionism that would defer into an unwilling sort of procrastination on yet another front, with the back wall tying off this entry by the force that I would call "acknowledgement of the need to compromise between polish, usefulness and even an artificially-imposed deadline." 

Even in the absence of a stated or known goal, one generally has to decide if any task is worth doing, and if it is so decided, that task must be reigned in and limited by the standing priorities of time and space.  So I'm writing this because I feel like I've put up a blog and I should post to it:  In a previous post I mentioned "priming the pump" -- one eventually comes to the point where something and "oh, for the love of God, just anything" has to be written.  It serves like a bridge from the past to the future, where habit becomes habit by virtue of repetition, and a sort of insurance that "what has been done" is "what will be done," and the core of any large project.  It's like showing up at work after a funeral or a divorce -- we just know it has to be done because there must be some point at which "normal life" (whatever we make that out to be) must resume.  Sometimes you have to set the deadline just to maintain the discipline. 

So if this post inspires an earthy scent in your nostrils, it is because it arose from a mental discipline that is the emotional analog to a laxative. 

I hope that subsequent grunts will assist in moving boulders more suitable to construction  .  .  .