Recently I tried to garner enthusiasm for what might become a significant task. I could feel a drag each time I considered it. Having a scale might have helped – like one of those in-body test machines that parses out how much of a body's frame is muscle, bone, or water. If I could calculate my half-hearted feelings by measuring the gristle of arguments, the ounces of regret, and the bones worth picking, maybe I could clarify if I should proceed or not.
The difficulty is that I haven’t felt inclined to even begin the assessment. No heart to figure out an answer.
Much like how the in-body test can suggest how much fat one ought to lose and how much muscle one should gain, part of my indecision rests on the dilemma that I will need to eliminate something before taking on a new responsibility. This is a point of drag.
When I retired, I feared I might have too much time. Right now, it feels balanced. Sufficient time to write, assist friends, and take photos. Do exercise, practice my faith, and keep in touch with family. And once and awhile do something unexpected.
Like finding frozen fog at Pioneer Park and stopping to take photos.
Or combining a small shopping chore with seeing the boat parade in Richland. And catching a few particularly interesting images.
The current decision has a couple of pounds of certainty that something about the proposed new task is not a good fit for my skills. Could I do the work? Probably. With enthusiasm and enough competence to suit me? Not so much.
Writing is a good way to get me to come to a conclusion. Consultation also. This blog post seems to have helped me make a calculated estimate of why I felt half-hearted and how to proceed.
How heavy is the weight of a half-hearted endeavor? My answer is found in the weight of words…