I had this super busy day a few days ago, where I rushed from one thing to another, for hours. It was early up, rush to the gym, rush to the munch, rush to get a birthday present, rush to another friend's birthday dinner. I was on the go from the minute I was up, until the minute I went to sleep.
So for that Sunday I planned a different thing to do:
It was glorious. I woke up with no particular plan in mind. I went about my day in a sort of floaty ease. So relaxing.
One thing I did do was listen to a lot of David Bowie music, because I found out he had passed away. His new album Blackstar is wonderful, poignant, and sad. It's got a jazzy, poignant, quality to it. I found out later that in his last 18 months he had a sort of creative frenzy, like a star going nova before it finally fades out.
This haunts me, some. I love his music, and am sorry to see him die. But I'm also comforted by the knowledge that when you're creative, the things you create keep on living, long after you yourself have returned to the nothing which we're all a part of.