Today brought a gift from Kat (thank you, dear), who recently culled her book collection and offered them to whoever was interested. I pinged her for titles that made me curious. Here’s what she sent:

• Art is a Way of Knowing: A Guide to Self-knowledge and Spiritual Fulfillment Through Creativity
• Voicing Today’s Visions: Writings by Contemporary Women Artists
• Finding Your Own North Star: Claiming the Life You Were Meant to Live
• The Divine Feminine: Exploring the Feminine Face of God Around the World
• The Dance of the Dissident Daughter: A Woman’s Journey From Christian Tradition to the Sacred Feminine
• The Master and Margarita

Furthermore, I realize I was being a bit of a dunderhead about all this time on my hands. Years ago I yearned to have this liberty, this privilege, and I’ve been squandering it on the Internet. This is the seduction: I’m an information junkie, a reader, a librarian; as wonderful as it is, the Internet is no longer a resource for me. It is a wellspring for my addiction. I need to stop treating everything I read, see, feel, or think as potential material for the blog. Readers tell me the blog is a source of help, pleasure, and information, and I’m happy about this. I want to continue. However, until recently I devoted way too much time to it and to mindlessly whiling away hours on the web. Thus the feelings of sterility and dissatisfaction.

Until I return to work in October, if there is a position for me, why not enjoy the luxury of devoting time to my interests? This evening I walked myself into the garage where I keep my art supplies, pulled out a small canvas, selected some colors that appealed, and painted it. I’ve no idea where it will lead. I’m not thinking. I’ve laid down one base color and let it dry, and then added two more. It will develop as it develops. I give myself permission not to know.

I also pulled off my bookshelves, for leisurely perusal, the following:

• Your Life As Story: Discovering the “New Autobiography” and Writing Memoir As Literature
• The Art of the Personal Essay : An Anthology from the Classical Era to the Present
• The Poet’s Companion: A Guide to the Pleasure of Writing Poetry
• The Renegade Writer: A Totally Unconventional Guide to Freelance Success
• The Well-Fed Writer: Financial Self-Sufficiency As a Freelance Writer in Six Months or Less
• Soul Collage: An Intuitive Collage Process for Individuals and Groups

In the coming weeks, there will be many ways to use my time. Months ago I was interviewed for an article to be published in a national health magazine, which will be printed in the fall sometime; I was contacted today to be photographed next week for it. (I’m keeping the name of the magazine under my hat until I actually see the issue.) My mother-in-law also comes to visit next week, and I’ve been planning activities that will be of interest. I’m focusing on my workout and re-joined a weight management program; with continued effort I’ll enjoy the results. I’m walking in a 5K event August 27 and doing more volunteer work. I may also travel a bit, but this is only in the discussion stage. Amid all this, I can dip into the books I listed, be inspired, and apply my efforts. All this can happen because I will spend less time staring at my navel via my blog. Blogging has revolutionized personal expression, yes. There are positives to it: it builds community, provides an outlet. However, it has become, for me at least, an act of mental masturbation. Even reading other blogs is in some way a narcissistic endeavor. When reading and writing blogs becomes a must instead of a want, when it turns into work despite the fact it was begun for pleasure and doesn’t bring remuneration, it’s time to retreat and refocus.

I’m not certain what this means for my blog. It may be I post once or twice a week. Over at North Coast Cafe Rodrigo listed the blogs he might take to a deserted island; among them was Gut Rumbles. I checked it out, and what struck me (aside from his attitude and politics) was that in the past two days, Acidman wrote 25 posts. Many are interesting, I’ll grant. And he can do whatever he wants, of course. But I would never be able to keep up with this writer’s output; multiply this by all the blogs that catch my interest, and I’d have no life. Likewise, I do not have the time to post every tidbit I come across, nor even half of it — not if I want a vital, creative, joyful life.

So there you have Part Two of my effort to recover from the abyss of my own self-absorption.