The Unmotivation Singularity

Sounds like a great title for a science fiction story, doesn’t it?

But first, a picture of some blue sky… because I haven’t seen any for far too long, and there might not be any tomorrow …

Be still, my beating heart

Be still, my beating heart

We’re actually between two rain-storms dropping enormous amounts of rain on already sodden ground. Landslides and flooding abound … Interesting Times.

Back yard - because you can't have too much blue sky ... with sunbeams!

Back yard – because you can’t have too much blue sky … with sunbeams!

Back to this singularity …

Good old Vernor Vinge,  (he of the great ‘Vernor’s Law’ (for writers)  which states that ‘all scenes need to accomplish at least 2 of 3 things: 1 – Provide background information, 2 – Develop the Characters, and 3 – Advance the plot’) first popularised the concept of ‘the singularity’ in a 1993 essay, (definitely worth a read if you’re interested in such things) wherein he posited that it signaled the end of the human or ‘Anthropocene’ era where human interaction with technology advances far enough that what we currently understand as ‘being human’ will cease to exist. (I’m paraphrasing, but that’s the gist of it)

My singularity was a little less … hmm .. grandiloquent. I have been singularly unmotivated to do anything, writing, blogging (just look at the last date I posted anything here) working on the Wunder-Lusters, cook, clean, or, on occasions, get out of bed.

I’m blaming it on the weather. Rain, to be precise. Four  months of unrelenting rain, broken only by momentary spells of not-rain.

See that photo of the Winter Tree at the top of this post? All that green stuff isn’t just grass, it’s grass sitting on top of ankle deep mud just waiting to suck down the unwary into it’s watery, sludgy depths.

As much as my intellect understands that living through extreme weather events is now an irreversible fact, my ability to engage with their subtler consequences dug in its heels and refused to budge.

My world became smaller and smaller, old habits, old expectations, based on decades, generations even, of ‘knowing’ what the weather was supposed to be like at this time of year, clung to me even as they were being scoured away by abrasive realities.

It didn’t help, of course, that what we’re planning to do with the Wunder-Lusters will turn just about every single aspect of our lives upside down as well. There was some serious digging in of heels there, let me tell you.

So there I was, circling the drain of ennui, inertia, and false expectations. Slowly, inexorably moving toward that point, that unmotivation singularity, where I’d … well, to put it bluntly, disappear up my own bum.

I didn’t, thankfully. And it wasn’t as though I was struck by some magical mystical bolt of cosmic goo, or a great revelation lit up the inside of my skull.

It was just… a moment, in time … that stayed with me for no longer that a single breath … and then, I was on the other side.

More blue sky, from the end of our road, and SNOW (If only we were three or four hundred meters higher - le sigh)

More blue sky, from the end of our road, and SNOW (If only we were three or four hundred meters higher – le sigh)

Upon re-reading, I see that I’ve confabulated my past and present tenses (bad writer) but really, it’s the singularity’s fault.

P,S, I’ll be waffling on, with more detail, about what we’re up to with the Wunder-Lusters in my next post.


31 comments on “The Unmotivation Singularity

  1. Waffle away, Widders. You’ve had more rain than we have.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. jenanita01 says:

    I wondered where you had gone…

    Liked by 1 person

  3. tidalscribe says:

    Even more rain than we have had? I get up in the morning and wonder why I can’t see – then realise it’s so dull inside because cloud and rain are pressing down on the roof and we have to turn all the lights on.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. quiall says:

    Ok, Ok. Part of me wanted to applaud at your use of imagery (“circling the drain . . .”), part of me wanted to chuckle (yep, actually did that) and part of me . . . Yeah I was waffling! But with views like that . . . knowing they will come out one day . . . I wait with bated breath for you to emerge of the drain and amaze us all!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Sue Vincent says:

    The grass outside my window is long, lush and green…and it can stay that way until I stop squelching when I walk on it. But a bit of blue ky makes me itch to get out there…

    Liked by 1 person

    • Widdershins says:

      We’re having a bit of a run of the blue at the moment and at least another three days of it!!! … at least according to the forecast 😀 … Mrs Widds is finishing up her weekly bread-baking and as soon as the last loaf is out of the oven we’re bundling up, it’s still a bit nippy out there, and going for a nice long bracing walk! 🙂


  6. Jen MB says:

    We’ve been in a similar but less monotonous weather pattern here – snow, sleet, ice, rain, repeat – and I’ve also been struggling with the outside and the inside and the spaces between. There’s so much transition here, in so many ways, that I desperately want our fickle New England weather to be fickle in its usual ways. But no, not here and not any longer. I’m very curious about what helped you break through. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • Widdershins says:

      Hi there Jen MB welcome to my little corner of the interwebz 🙂 … What helped me break through, eh? … hmm … by nature I’m a fairly easy-going woman, slightly on the optimistic side of ‘realistic’, and having spent a good many years untangling my interior landscape, I know when to ‘go with the flow’ and when to push back, when I’m going through something, for want of a better word, hard. Well, most of the time anyway. 🙂 …
      I also know that no matter how ‘civilised’ we humans get, we’re still very small creatures whose lives are dictated by the whims of Mother Earth, which can be a source of annoyance and comfort on any given day. 🙂
      To cut a long story short, I ‘knew’ that a change had happened … just in that pause between one breath and another.
      Not that it always happens like that. Sometimes there’s kicking and screaming, and all sorts of digging in of heels and hanging on by fingernails. 🙂


  7. Maybe we’re simply hibernating.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Widdershins says:

      I’d like to think so, and that’s certainly part of it, but … I think it’s more to do with the times we’re living through, knowing what’s required in order to move through them.


  8. Olga Godim says:

    The older we get, the more we don’t wish anything to change around us. We want more of the same. Or at least, I do. In my case, this sentiment even applies to book. Nowadays, I approach each new book with caution and even reluctance, while I enjoy re-reading old favorites again and again. I salute you for your readiness to travel, to see and experience new places and people.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Widdershins says:

      I’m a bit like that with movies too … unless I have a general idea of what it’s about (and no animals get hurt) I have to work hard to convince myself to give ’em a go.


  9. Jay says:

    I think you’re on to something here: when everything down here looks bleak, turn your eyes upward.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. You’ll be fine once you get some sunshine. Even though we live in a dry part of the world (or perhaps because of it) I get very dreary after a few days of grey skies – I cannot imagine living through weeks of it combined with wet weather and snow and cold yuck! View is spectacular though. Great to have you back, I enjoy your posts.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. I think I’m still waiting for ‘the weather to get back to normal,’ too. I’m mentally stuck in the mud by the fact that I moved to a different climate and it refuses to settle down and be predictable.

    I’ll be okay, and part of it is a new medicine which may be helping, but the temptation every day is to wait for tomorrow.

    It doesn’t help that my mobility device, Maggie the Airwheel S8, is broken – and China is where it comes from. It’s literally been Kafkaesque, and I can see that it will be that way for a while. Meanwhile, the backup protection plan from eBay needs a kick in the seat of the pants: there ARE other options, and they are dragging their feet.

    So, I have to drag myself out of the deeps every day – and that’s exhausting. Which is annoying because I’m at SUCH a good part in the writing, if I could just figure out how I want to do this (critical – they all are) scene.

    Good luck with the writing!

    Liked by 1 person

  12. selizabryangmailcom says:

    Worse things can happen than disappearing up our own butts, lol.
    I think.
    Pretty sure.
    But I feel ya, at any rate. As we say here in the Valley–like totally!

    Liked by 1 person

  13. It’s incredible how that affects us so deeply. I haven’t been quite right since the time change, and I’m certain I won’t be right until it changes back–to what is the (totally unbiased opinion) proper time. Having the sun set so early deeply affects my desire to accomplish things. There is so much promise and wonder in sunshine–and I find a lot of sadness when it’s gone.

    Hang in their friend, I am awaiting better seasons with you ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  14. […] my ‘unmotivation singularity’ epiph, (which is the […]


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