An endorsement of idleness.

This time is heavenly.

Sitting on my porch, feeling the sun warm my shoulders and the summer breeze cool my tits. In my hand, the morning’s first cup of coffee wafts an aroma both new and familiar.

I think I could sit here all day. If I hit that steamroller on the table, I know I will.

As a child, I loved days like this, sitting on my grandfather’s back porch. The porch was screened in during the summer, and sitting in its painted white Adirondack chairs made me feel like I was holding court over the backyard. The tomato vines stretching 10′ tall down the length of the narrow yard to the alley. Blue and pink and white hydrangeas, and roses everywhere. Birds chirped.

It was a welcome place of respite from the storm that was my parents. Every moment at my house required constant vigilance – for safety.

At my grandfather’s house, though, I could sit in the eye of the storm and rest and relax and let my guard down.

I feel like I should have a season in my life like that now: the time and space to sit in the eye of the storm, in joy and in peace, engaged in nothing more than the observation of life’s passing.

I set the stage for myself to get these moments: reclaiming my time – time is the measure of MY life – from urgency, chaos, productivity, and the expectations of others and of society in 5 minute increments.

I remember early in the pandemic stepping outside my house, away from the chaos and the noise and the stress and the anxiety of those horrrible days.

I’d go outside for 5 minutes, feel the sun and breeze on my shoulders, and isolate a singe birds chirp to listen to. 5 minutes became 10, 10 became 20 minutes, which became a walk, then a run, then another marathon.

It seemed, at first, that would be enough: restore my time 5 minutes or an hour at a time.

It was not – I found out I had harder work to do.

Taking time for myself felt weird and uncomfortable and unfamiliar and, if I’m being candid, wrong.

I felt like I was being selfish – taking time for myself when others were struggling and couldn’t yet afford that luxury.

And I had been conditioned by years of living to tie up my worth as a human being in a Gordian knot of efficiency, productivity, reliability and achievement.

The more I did, the more money I made, the more productive or efficient I was, the more value I had in the heteronormative world.

The problem is that those values are insatiable.

We are expected to ALWAYS do more. To ALWAYS be more efficient. We can always squeeze a few drops of blood from a turnip.

So that is the hard work: cutting that Gordian knot.

At times outright rejecting the narrative that I must do something, achieve something, or earn something in order to have value.

Truth be told, you have the same value as a human whether you are sitting in the sun, absorbing her energy, or sitting in a cubicle, making money for someone else.

Some outfits and photos from the week that I feel like fit my theme. Click on any of them for a full screen gallery view with captions.