Bookcases and Windmills

As my husband passed the bookcase in our computer nook, I asked, "Do you see that middle shelf?

"Yes," he replied, with that what's-wrong-now look.

"It's sagging in the middle."

"Hum, you're right. What do you suppose caused it?"

My immediate thought was "cheap bookcase." I got it on sale at an office furniture store. It was a put-it-together-yourself type that I had worked on for two days before calling in a handyman to finish the job. The handyman was more expensive than the bookcase.

My second guess was that the books were too heavy for the particle board (well, it looked like wood and matched my computer desk--which came from the same store). The shelf contained two bound dissertations, three volumes of "Who's Who" and all my cookbooks (mostly unopened—ripe for Ebay).

When You're On Overload

Simply distributing the weight differently would probably have solved our problem. Except that every bookcase in our house (6 at last count) was full. Rearranging this bookshelf might entail a transfer to other, more substantial shelves in other rooms. Or, heaven forbid, giving away some precious books. There wasn't going to be a quick solution. 

Then an analogy poofed into being: my overloaded mind. Not a simple solution, either.

I grew up with Glenn Campbell singing "Windmills of My Mind." The song made a lasting impression because I lived in west Texas where dust storms were more feared than tornadoes. In west Texas, if you found a windmill that wasn't whirring, it was broken. Even as a child, my mind whirred with ideas, dreams, goals, and all the stuff of a great imagination.

Almost a thousand miles from west Texas and with Glenn Campbell nearing retirement, my mind still whirs. Getting it to stop—or at least slow down—proves difficult. All those unwritten books, articles, letters to the editor, not to mention keeping up with Facebook; e-mail; LinkedIn; birthday, sympathy, and get well cards—minds, like bookshelves, can get overwhelmed, even those of the most dedicated workaholics. 

Unloading the Overload

I'm staring at the sagging bookshelf. I'm thinking about what's left on my mental "to do" list. But I'm about to finish my blog for now. Strike one thing off the list! It's time for celebration!

Except that I need to spend an hour or so on my second book (the first one is at the printers), and time is wasting. Or is it? 

To unload the overload I've got to unwind the windmill. It occurred to me that a windmill looks a lot like my bedroom ceiling fan. When it's blowing more than needed, I simply turn it down one or more speeds. Occasionally, I turn it off. All I need is a chord to pull.

Time is precious, but so is rest, reflection, and renewal. I'm pulling the chord to slow speed. Humm ... it's feeling good.