It is Christmas Eve in Fort Augustus…
I must say that the first few days in Scotland have been rather interesting in that I haven’t left the apartment, except to go to the local grocery or snap a few pictures. I didn’t think much of my introversion at first. But, by day three, I started to panic. I had done nothing except eat, sleep, indulge in the mindless time-suck that is Facebook, watch online videos (thank you Amazon Prime) and fret about why I couldn’t seem to leave my vacation rental.
Usually, by day five of a trip, I’ve already scouted all of the local establishments and tagged my favorite spots. Yet, since my arrival, I haven’t had much inclination to leave my cocoon that is the Scriptorium. This desire to retreat has been unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
The best I have been able to come up with is that I’ve needed to stand still and recoup after a hellish end to November. Unfortunately, I am not good at being still. My brain tells me, I must be tackling some great problem in order to be okay. I also equate standing still with being paralyzed. Prior to my trip, I expected that I would launch my writing career, pinning hopes and dreams of mass production on a three week vacation. When I didn’t hit the ground running like I had expected, I feared that writing was going to end up being relegated to my long list of pipe dreams. In my moment of panic, I could not visualize stillness. I could only feel paralysis.
As the clock ticks closer to midnight, I reflect over the past week and see that everything has its time and purpose; even if I don’t understand it in the moment. This time has been like pressing (Ctrl + Alt +Del), giving me a chance to select the programs that aren’t functioning properly and close them for good.