Sometimes its possible to merge work and life. The times when you type one handed with the baby on your lap. Other times, you have to bide your time. Wait for the right conditions to light the fire. Merging work and life means to dance between the things that sustain you, that need to be done, the work you do not because you have to, but because you have to. Writing, politicking, serving, parenting, cooking, cleaning, talking, reading, sowing seeds, cutting grass, homework, housework, presentations, dissertations. These are the things we dance between. And there is also the necessity to pause, take a breath. Without that, the complexity of the dances we attempt to sustain is well and truly screwed. Right about now, I have to pause. Chapter 3 has been slaying me, emotional rollercoaster and the disturbing of so many demanding ancestors. The baby wants to crawl. My daughter falls over and needs to be held. This is my work, no great shakes. In order to do it, be present enough to muddle through, I have to pause. Look at these logs. Feel the fire contained in the wood, not yet released. Then I finish chapter 3, laugh through bedtime, cheer the first crawl, hang out the washing, hell, maybe even wash my hair. But first, I pause and return to my breath for just a minute. At the end of this sentence. Stop.