Two weeks ago, I was so in central Texas for “vacation.” With the temperature hitting 115 degrees (124 after factoring the heat index), I decided enough was enough.
I’d pictured a blissful week of writing, editing, sipping coffee, and maybe (just maybe) a margarita. When the temperature blazed into triple digits, enough was enough. I piled everyone into the car and headed for the coast.
Something magic happened at the beach. I no longer wanted to write or edit. I wanted to look for roseate spoonbills (sometimes mistaken for flamingos). I wanted to see dolphins. I wanted to watch the sun rise and set. I wanted to download videos on my phone of summer beach songs. I wanted to take long walks. I wanted to teach Kyland to throw a Frisbee.
I wanted to build sandcastles, take pictures of gulls, try shrimp stuffed with Monterey jack cheese then wrapped in bacon and deep fried.
I wanted crab cakes instead of bacon for breakfast. I wanted to feel the surf swirl around my ankles. I wanted to see shrimp boats, tour the pier, explore an oil rig museum, explore and island I’d never been to, even catch a ferry.
I wanted to have long conversations, pick up tourist brochures, and wear big floppy hats.
I left for Texas imagining hours to write and rest.
Instead, I got something a whole lot better: renewal
I came home inspired. I came home with new ideas. I came home ready to begin my workout program again.
I’ve written more recently than in the last few months. I’ve planned out three new books. And I played my first competitive racquetball matches.
By taking time away from my craft, I returned to it more jazzed than ever, richer from experiences, more able to appreciate simple pleasures.
I’m convinced…doing nothing is sometimes more productive than anything else…