We underestimate peace. Moments where the world peels away and we can focus. Time we’ve reserved for ourselves to think and dream. Stolen moments, when we aren’t working, or struggling to recover from work, or trying to rebuild our souls.
I should be talking about NOIR, which is now available for pre-order, or the fact a dear friend of mine may be joining me in publication – a BRAVE NEW WORLD, as it were. I should be talking about A.J. Harris’ new story in the Big Book of Orgasms 2. Or the new story I just submitted to another anthology under A.J.’s name. There’s work to do.
Promotional work.
Marketing work.
Editorial work.
And then there’s day-job work. All ten hours a day, and the time it occupies in the brain. Which is why moments like last weekend meant so much.
I am damned lucky. Between my wife and I, we can afford to find places like this – an hour away from home, near where we got married – to find peace. To disconnect. To just read together under blankets or listen to music or go to very nice dinners. But most importantly, to say to the world “We’re on rural broadband. Don’t call unless it’s an emergency.”
Most people can’t do that. Can’t afford to do it. They can’t afford sick days, or time off, or even breaks. Peace and time is even more precious for them. They find it anywhere they can – weekends with the cats, or just opening the window and listening for a half moment. If they’re very lucky, they can then take that moment and focus it into something creative.
They can scribble notes, and dream, and wonder ‘what if?’
Because we need these moments. We need time away from the hustle. We need joy without a business plan. And we don’t get it. Not here. Not anymore.
I hope you can take these photos, close them up in your heart, and enjoy some of the peace I got last weekend. It helped. I’ll be able to write more using the fuel I stored up from these stolen moments.
Dream well.
Biomechanoid Blues 