Good Grief 126

I've got a couple of bits of occupational therapy on the go at the moment (as opposed to work which is more of an occupational hazard).
This is one of them.
It's a development of this one and is keeping me out of mischief. It gets a bit obsessive but there is something about working with random bits of driftwood, seeing their shapes, watching them evolve into something. I can't get into planning or drawing a rough sketch in my mind, I just 'sit with them' and let them/hope they will emerge. I find it interesting to watch my mood shift and change - the early phase of 'I can't do this, I can't see anything, what possesses me to start these silly projects, etc'; then the moment of starting faff about and think of possibilities; then a period of deflection to other materials and may be a bit of research; then, every so often, a feeling of 'flow' of pure immersed joy - drilling a hole, finding a bit that fits, striking on a fresh idea; followed by obsessive frustration of 'this bit WILL go in here and I will fiddle with it for an inordinate amount of time and work up a sweat, and poke this little bit in this ridiculously small space ... and I just need a pin, that'll do it ... and, when exactly did my eyes start to deteriorate so I need a magnifying glass to thread a needle'; to getting overtired and thinking I'll never get this done but I want to do this ....
"I want to do this"  ... now, did I just hear myself ...?
Motivation and purpose ... that little double act.
Along with achievement, love and gratitude ... that little triple act.
As you can see they are a work in progress ....

And, in the meantime, in daylight hours, I pursue my other small obsession. I walked into time and saw myself in many layers. I stood, one current slice in a sliced loaf of time looking across to myself lying there over 16 years ago .... sleeping in profound shock in the rain hoping I would drift quietly away. And here I am again.