The feeling of a giant stone lifted off my back washed over me after I uploaded the last of 3.7 GB of files to the printer. The Hockey book was sent into cyberspace. It felt good immediately but after a good night's sleep, the feeling became wonderful. I think when you are in the middle of an intense project, one that goes on seemingly without end, you have no idea what it does to you.
You forget any other longer-term projects. The order of importance of those "off stage" to do items fades and jumbles. Things you thought important to do next, switch places with "I'd-like-to-do-that items." And if you need real proof that your brain works on problem-solving off stage in your subconscious, I had one of those moments of clarity. A long-time problem of how to draw up a schedule using a program, a task that was daunting because of how irregular a calendar is, suddenly popped into my brain. And, very typically, it came to me while I was in the shower. Don't most of your great Ralph Kramden ideas happen there? Mine do.
That was also a signal to my brain of how much open space there is in my cranium now that the nonfiction writing gremlins had departed. That was a scary thought. Because of the immediate head-clearing catharsis of finish, my subconscious was now wide-open. I shutter to think how much it must have been working overtime .
Today, I did something I haven't done in a long time. I sat down at the piano. Recently, I did entertain thoughts that when I retire next June, I would take the piano back up in earnest.
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