I feel cap-less, like the pens on my desk this morning. Devoid of their protective lids, they seem loss, confused, in despair, losing their vital ink as they dry out without purpose or reason. It is a lack of clarity that has led me here, in front of my distressed writing companions. My desk is a mess and I have so many programs open that I seem unable to complete one thing before I am bound to the sound of an incoming email. No, I am not one of those characters on television that secretly protects the fate of this world and therefore cannot close her screens. No, I am not a secret agent living a double life. No, I am not slave to my work and yet at this moment, I have allowed it to dry me out.
I walk to the kitchen and find myself peeling a clementine. I watch the fruit in my hand. Appreciate this shade of orange that I do not know how to call. I would never have attempted to eat the fruit whole, or to swallow it unpeeled. Madness, it would have been. Each step comes with intuitive simplicity. I know that peeling comes first, followed by a short inspection and appreciation of the segments. As I finish one, I move on to the next. So simple.
When we try to do everything at once, we remain in a zone of non-effectiveness. Our steps get jumbled and we lose focus of everything.
How do we simplify a big project or an overwhelming situation?
The same way we eat a clementine.