When there is nothing much to do except looking around seeing willow trees in the distance with the cascades of leaves reminiscent of the enormous schools of silvery fish, this calmness around produces some feeling of restlessness.
It's not my usual environment. The serenity of a tree shadow instead of the typical bustle of endless distractions. The absence of anything to focus on compels me to turn inwards. I start to reminisce and introspect. This restlessness is channeled into words and phrases circling in my head like the frantic fish in a Japanese pond.
I see the spots of sunlight on the ground below the tree. In a shade, where I hid from the direct sunlight.
Also, it's a sort of experiment where I'm trying to find out, if I can do anything related to an intellectual effort being outside and not in the familiar environment of the room and my laptop, where I switch off the fact of the summer outside and focus on being productive while another summer in my life just passes by.
This spring and summer though I lost my sense of direction and started to drift freely, directed by my impulses that I'm unable to resist. Namely being outside, breathing the air filled with fragrances of flowers and mowed grass, see the sun patterns playing around me. And moving.
Anything but triggers unsurmountable onslaughts of restlessness and the sensation of time relentlessly passing. Like I see my life in a form of the torrent of sand streaming through my fingers into oblivion.
Then I've reached the compromise with this demon of mine who falls into a state of excitement every time the sunlight comes through my window.
So I went outside, but instead of endless walking or jogging, I took a smartphone to write down whatever would come to my mind while I'm submerged into this blissful tranquility of the willow trees and brightly illuminated lawns and flower beds.
Without internet access, it also creates the conditions with zero procrastinations helping to focus on the task at hand. This, and the absence of anything around drawing attention except the rare passersby.
Ideally, I need to rewrite a script, a task which is already behind the schedule, and I have no clear idea how to approach it. There are some contradicting issues and the pressure to make every line meaningful.
Well, it would be the normal situation for the fourth draft to at least replace the strings of empty conversation with something meaningful. But when you are trying to write something with this idea in mind it becomes more like creating some elaborate mechanism, which parts have to be skillfully crafted and fit together, so the whole thing would also work.
This is when the mind shuts down, and you realize it's difficult to even direct the thoughts towards this subject. At least I've learned it's possible to write outside, and the flow of thoughts is smoother and clearer than that produced in a crowded environment of the room