Rest My Fingers

Disarray describes my desk. It’s not laziness that keeps me from organizing the piles of paper and assorted odds and ends littering my office. Lethargy, a non-blood cousin, is responsible. In my opinion, lethargy does not suggest apathy or indifference. Unlike laziness, lethargy does not carry with it a deserved, negative judgment. Lethargy is an affliction, whereas laziness is an embarrassing state of mind. I have been lazy, of course. But not now. Not today. Today, I am lethargic. I want energy, but energy eludes me. I think the chemotherapy drugs in my system are responsible for robbing me of the stamina and strength I crave. I do not wish for them to stop doing what they are doing, though, because simultaneously they are attacking and killing cancer cells. They are free to do the oncologist’s bidding in peace. I willingly accept their unpleasant side effects. But I would be even more grateful if they would fulfill their roles at the same time they cause my desk and my office to be well-organized and attractive. The universe is complex and mysterious. So is my office. So are we all.

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I have very little interest in anything. Nothing captures my imagination at the moment. If I could fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, I would gladly do it for as long as my body would permit. Emptiness. Blankness. Feeling nothing. Requiring no energy, no strength, no power. Just existence, without any obligations. Not even breathing. Not even a heartbeat. Well, I think I would want those to continue; but absent any responsibilities. I cannot convince myself that there is a way to accomplish this empty, dreamless state. If I could make an effort, though, without trying, I think I would. There’s no point in continuing to write about an emotional odyssey that refuses to cooperate with my own mindlessness. So, instead, I’ll pause for as long as it takes for me to re-emerge into reality. Until then, I will rest my fingers and my mind.

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