Out of Oomph

I can't be mad at myself, as I'd said I was, for giving so much energy to work last year, having looked at my posts from January 2023:
around this time last year, I was pouring energy into walking around the neighborhood with the visiting baby sem volunteers--first year students at the Catholic seminary ('baby sems' posts on l'astronave). That was entirely worthwhile!

I'd wanted to show them the beauty in the breakdown. It was rewarding, though exhausting, taking them on Walkabout. I'd loved the fresh and open faces of [most of] these young men, and what seemed to me their sincere but rather naive--well, untested--faith.

Most took in the sights that I described to them as the sharp but shiny bits inside a broken-open geode. I expect some of them will grow up to be really neat people--maybe priests.
Some seemed insulated though, and I expect these might evolve into pampered, self-centered jerks.
(Who knows? It could be the reverse.
However, while the race might not go to the swift, that's the safest bet.*)

Where did I get the energy? I even had a head cold when I spoke passionately to them:

"It's all very well to talk about love and service", I said, "but you have to make these little decisions every single day about how to do that.
And it's wearing, and annoying, and the despair can really drag you down--and you have to think, how do I keep doing this?
What sustains me in the long run?"

"What sustains me in the long run?"
I don't know.
I am out of sustain.

Luckily, new sems aren't coming this year (we'd been an emergency replacement for a plan that'd fallen through).

II. A boost of Douglas

I'm not entirely out of sustain, though!
Yesterday, regular customer Douglas (R. Ewart) came in.
I'm always jazzed to see him because he's always on the lookout for transformative material--his cart will fill with quirky items and cool books. Before I knew he was a famous musician, I could see he was vibrating at a high level.

I was also glad to see him yesterday because I had something to ask him. A couple years ago I'd set aside a series of b&w photos mounted on board showing some sort of musical performance at what looked like the park three blocks from the store.
I'd thought, though he's not in these photos, maybe Douglas (DE) knows what's going on here.

[Why did I care? Because, librarian.]

In the way of things, the photos got buried under other things I'd set aside. Lately donations have been down, so I've had time to go through these things, and the other day I'd put the photos on my desk to be sure to show DE next time he came in.
Yesterday he did, and I did.

Douglas stared at the first couple pictures, and then he said,
"This is mine! This is Crepuscule!"
For eleven years, he'd coordinated this community improv performance at the local park (and elsewhere).

Above LEFT: Poster from Ewart's website
RIGHT: photo of Ewart, from book Stories of Impact: Douglas R. Ewart's Crepuscule.

I gave the photos to Douglas. "They're yours, if you want them".
He did. Later, after he'd checked out, he came and found me.
"I just want to thank you again."

"That's why I'm here––" I said, "for things like this," and we hugged.

I asked him why he'd stopped doing Crepuscule.
He said he'd gotten tired of organizing it, of asking people for help.
Seems he ran out of sustain, too (though only for that project).

He didn't say more, but I can imagine that after eleven years, you hope the community will PICK IT UP and run with it, but I got the sense it was all on him to spark, every time.
It included children, who made their own instruments (so did adults), and dancers, and all sorts. The energy that took!

The man is full of fuel for his other ongoing projects though.

Am I?

III. Flatline

At the moment, I feel flat.
It's the absolute lack of any sustaining fuel from INSIDE my workplace that is the problem. The management, the organization (the Society), even my lovely coworkers, operate at the lowest common denominator. Energy is converted into waste, like making ham casserole for a vegetarian.

I did set up a partial BOOK's display at work though--some Pelicans I'd been saving as they came in. I love their blue borders. Pelicans, an imprint of Penguin Books, aimed "to provide inexpensive, accessible non-fiction for a non-specialist readership".
(The original 'For Dummies'!)

Hm, I see Pelican Books rebooted in 2014.
The titles look pretty interesting... Like this one: Around the World in 80 Books:
"Inspired by Jules Verne..., David Damrosch, chair of Harvard's Department of Comparative Literature..., set out to counter a pandemic's restrictions on travel by exploring eighty exceptional books from around the globe."
It's at the library--I'll go check it out.

I do have energy to read--I'm reading Martin Marty's short bio of Luther right now. Reading is sustaining, but it's like sleeping: It's not me creating, myself.

And I'm doing little things like memorizing the Donne sonnet, and not-eating meat (not-doing things takes energy too).

But, you know what?
It's okay.
If I'm out of steam, I'm out of steam. No point forcing myself.

If I wait, my oomph will build up again inside myself. I hope. I assume. (It always has.)
Maybe for my workplace, maybe not. Right now, [BOOK's aside] it feels like not.
But for something!

_________________

Re: betting on the swift

There are many versions of this saying, but... "The earliest close match found by Quote Investigator appeared in Collier’s magazine in February 1919, ascribed to a prominent sportswriter named Hugh E. Keough:

“The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong; but that is the way to bet.”

Damon Runyon also employed the saying, but he too credited Keough."