On second thought, no I don't - I have enough irons in the fire already. I just need to feel excited about something. Maybe it's post-holiday letdown, but I've got a touch of the ho-hum blues...what to look forward to? What to get excited about? Nothing presents itself.

Went to NJ for Christmas with my family. The mood down there was quite a comedown. The financial crisis is on everybody's mind everywhere, of course, but I found it was really palpable right there where so very many people are tied directly to the finance industry. People are really feeling fearful and discouraged, and it wore off a little. It's good to be back in northern New England where we are somewhat insulated from this.

I'm familiar with the feeling, Miko. There is something about dates and deadlines that keep me, if not exactly looking forward to something, in a basic low level flow state. That's why for me, travel plans are exciting, as well as studying for a test, signing up for and reporting to a class, or preparing to mount a concert, performace, art show, or event.

I admit I'm not good at imposing or creating dates and deadlines (non-work related) on myself, but I am less bluesy when I have somethig to do that I enjoy that must be accomplished in a set ammount of time.

Not sure how helpful that is, but I'm hearing you.

I hear you too. Right now I've got a bunch of awesome projects and things going on, but I either need to wait for other people to do things before I can move forward or I don't have enough personal knowledge to figure out what the next step should be (creating a circulation system for films, I'm looking at you).

Plus I'm a ridiculous worrier. I'm trying to work on not worrying about things that are out of my hands (like the economy, which has definitely been a big theme in a lot of my worrying lately.)

Is there any way you can jiggle some of those irons in the fire? That's what I'm planning on doing in about a week or so, which should hopefully give everyone time to get back from vacations and whatnot.

My college roommate called this the "After the Ball" feeling. Somehow, giving it a fairytale name helped make it easier for me to deal with.

I hear ya, three!

I don't need any projects or anything, but I need to get past the feeling that something terrible is going to happen in the upcoming year. I think it started on the way to the airport from my folks' house. I was thinking, "Hey, this was fun, and I'm looking forward to doing it again next year." And then the nagging little voice came along and said, "Ooh, but what if your parents die in a horrible car crash in the next couple months. Then there'll be no Christmas at all, SUCKA." And it's stuck with me.

The next step is telling the brain to shut up and let good things happen, right?

The next step is telling the brain to shut up and let good things happen, right?

A mental trick from a favorite professor:

When bad things happen to you, do you automatically start thinking, "Ooooh, but what if things start to get better soon? I better not get too bogged down in all this negative shit, because I could end up feeling silly when things get better!"

If you do, then you're allowed to worry about potential bad shit during good times. If you don't, then you're proving to yourself that you're being illogical and inconsistent, so stop it. :-)

I don't need any projects or anything, but I need to get past the feeling that something terrible is going to happen in the upcoming year.

I too am guilty of clinging to that impending doom feeling mudpuppy.

I just need to feel excited about something.

Supposedly, something big is happening on January 20th, but I can't remember. Anyone?

Hm. The 20th. Sounds familiar to me, too, but I just can't place it.

Miko, you can start thinking about spring and planning your garden. That's what I do this time of year. Seems early, but there's seed ordering, layout planning, timing, etc. It's so pleasant to doodle along daydreaming about all the new tomato varieties you're going to try.

Loofah gourds? Purple long beans? YAY!

Another project actually sounds like a great idea. If your plate is full, perhaps something small, like making bread every few days for a month or so to get the perfect baguette. OK, maybe even smaller than that.

Do projects really work for this sort of thing? I see it suggested on AskMe all the time.

Projects work for me. Without a project, I get listless, bored, anxious, and a bit depressed. I need something to look forward to, and I like begin and end points and the feeling of things accomplished.

Of course, as you've all reminded me, I have plenty of projects...I did promise to do a MeFi seed exchange. My house is kind of an ongoing project. Caddis reminds me that I want to try Laurie Colwin's baguette recipe and also the one-hour artisan bread that's been going around. And there are even bigger fish awaiting frying, like developing a business idea I've been kicking around for about a year, and choosing a graduate course to take in spring...

So it's not that I really *need* another project -- just that I'm experiencing the oddness of having no major deadlines looming now that Christmas and its travel is over. I will try to enjoy it...:)

Nothing presents itself.

Does it? If it's nothing, how can it present itself?

Meditate upon this until Spring.

Hey, neato. I just checked out this "Sacred Space" link on the MeFi main page, and found this message of the day:

Something to Think About and Pray About This Week:

The week after Christmas can be a time of anticlimax, of crackers cracked and bottles emptied, the fun and excitement just a cold memory. We cannot live our whole life in a buzz of exhilaration, even religious exhilaration. Even a charismatic service, with ecstatic crowds and catchy music, can leave a morning-after feeling. As Joseph brought Mary and Jesus down to Egypt, dodging soldiers and footpads, the adoring shepherds and the jubilant angels were just a memory. In Jesus' parables, the kingdom of God advances not by fireworks and peak experiences, but by trickling increment, by quiet, organic growth like the mustard seed or the leaven in the lump. Thank you, Lord, for the high moments; but when they are past, let me be good leaven.

I need to learn to be more yeasty.

Winter is a yeasty time. Another take on it, which I just happened to come across a few minutes ago when looking for another poem:

Keeping Quiet
by Pablo Neruda

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

This one time upon the earth,
let's not speak any language,
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be a delicious moment,
without hurry, without locomotives,
all of us would be together
in a sudden uneasiness.

The fishermen in the cold sea
would do no harm to the whales
and the peasant gathering salt
would look at his torn hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars of gas, wars of fire,
victories without survivors,
would put on clean clothing
and would walk alongside their brothers
in the shade, without doing a thing.

What I want shouldn't be confused
with final inactivity:
life alone is what matters,
I want nothing to do with death.

If we weren't unanimous
about keeping our lives so much in motion,

if we could do nothing for once,
perhaps a great silence would
interrupt this sadness,
this never understanding ourselves
and threatening ourselves with death,
perhaps the earth is teaching us
when everything seems to be dead
and then everything is alive.

Now I will count to twelve
and you keep quiet and I'll go.

-from Full Woman, Fleshly Apple, Hot Moon
Translated by Stephen Mitchell

That brought a tear to my eye.

Sometimes poetry is absolutely the answer. Neruda is magnificent. Good find, and thanks, occhiblu.

You're welcome!

I find that stillness and silence and not-doing are themes that are coming up a lot for me and the people around me lately. I really do think that a large part of it is winter -- this is when we're *supposed* to be withdrawing a bit and contemplating what hibernation means -- but it's interesting to see it come up again and again with different people.

I've mostly been describing it as "integration." If you don't take some time after a major event or learning to be quiet and integrate it, to make it part of you, then that event or learning or experience generally just falls away without leaving an impression (or, in some cases, gloms onto you in nasty no-good awful ways).

I've read that this is one way of looking at death, as a way of resting and integrating everything that happened in life, and I love the yogic practice of "practicing death" through meditation or sivasana ("corpse pose") at the end of a yoga practice. If we continually build up the ego without also taking time to disintegrate it, we get off balance and insecure -- too much bark, not enough roots.

I need to learn to be more yeasty.

Maybe the new project should be baking, or perhaps homebrewing.