Heat is work and work is heat

This is Sisyphus, enjoying the rolling of the rock. Did the rock feel cool and smooth on his hands? Did the endorphins kick in?

The need for the work must be generated, the way made clear, and then the work must be done. It does not have to mean anything. It means you can pay your bills. It does not have to resonate with your deeper beliefs about the world and your place in it. It is work, and it must go on. The work will never be done, and that is the blessing. If the source of the work- the great pipe that belches out tasks for us- should be severed, there yawns disaster and the abyss. The abyss is more beautiful than the work. Like all space, it is full of intangible possibilities. It is too beautiful to behold, really, because it is a terrifying, feral beauty. The stone cold beauty of truth. The universe in a grain of sand. The last word.

Today, I am putting up Christmas decorations in the office. It has been very strange to tangle with lights without a cup of spiked eggnog, Johnny Mathis and my mom on the couch, reminiscing over ornaments as they come out of the box.