Mike and I are doing The Artists Way, which is a book containing a 12-week course on unblocking creativity and getting (back) into a habit of producing creative work. On the Hokey scale, it’s somewhere between seasickness wristbands (plausible) and crystals (not plausible), but having just read the first chapter, I actually like it. It veers into overly flowery New Age hot air in a few places, but the actual things she’s talking about make a lot of sense to me. Just adhering to the routine will, I suspect, be a good thing; this book is all about process, not product. I can’t cram for it, I can’t put it off until the last minute. (Or rather, I can, but I’d immediately notice that I wasn’t doing it, unlike a paper for a class, where I can convince myself that I still have time to do an okay job on it until 10 minutes before it’s due.)
Mike and I went for a 24 mile bike ride yesterday, which felt great. I’m still getting used to the riding posture on this bike, but the loop we picked was moderate, the weather cooperative, and we kept to a reasonable pace. I’m jonesing to get back out again.
And I’ve swum in the pond daily for the last three days. (Today we were joined by a muskrat!) My swimming is still frantic and a little panicky, but hopefully that’ll improve with practice, too. The pond’s warmed up nicely, and after working out and getting sweaty, jumping in feels utterly awesome.