Don't ask what it is or what it means. Just fill it.
On my desk this week, in small celebration of a birthday (age not to be disclosed) I've placed a whimsical purchase from the Detroit Institute of Arts. Don't ask what its real function or significance is. Had I visited the African gallery where similar work was featured, perhaps I'd know -- or find out the truth that it's a paperclip holder, or a small urn for ashes of a treasured family pet. No matter, it's mine for the present - a hand-built black clay pot with a decorative lid. It has significance now only to me. Yesterday, when I took it out of its box and placed it on my desk next to the keyboard, it struck me: I have given myself a "job jar" -- a place to keep ideas in passing, assignments-to-self, grand and trivial, whatever comes to mind at the time, like a genie in a bottle. . . to savor, to dream. . . to act upon. . . to put into words. And to "post" for later.
Cheers. For now & to later!