I have a lot of ideas. A plethora of them.

Sometimes these ideas cram together in my noggin until I’m certain they’ll be pouring out my ears. Most often it’s “good” ideas–story plots, art projects, web design plans, goals, wants, dreams, hopes, desires. Things I can do and be and say.

But there are stressful ideas, too–thoughts, really. The time frame I have in which to complete these projects. The magnitude of work that’s involved with them. The limitations of the resources I have at hand. My own lack of experience in certain matters.

What often winds up happening is that the overload of ideas and mounting stress cause me to clutch–I get stuck between having a ton of things to do, but not knowing how to do them all. The ideas and energy build up inside me, while I stand immobile. Imagine filling a pressure cooker with more pressure than it can handle–at some point, something’s gotta give.

Facing one of these moments yesterday, I decided to go for a nice long walk. Burn off some of that energy, clear my thinking. But I was delayed until it was too dark to walk very far; so, instead, I sprinted up and down the block.

Probably looks strange to passing motorists to see someone in jeans and a windbreaker running back and forth as if there were monsters on her heels, but I’ve long since given up worrying about looking strange.

As I ran, I was still thinking. The energy can be burned away, but the ideas remain. Tons and tons of thoughts, pouring through my mind. I puzzled over them, wondering to myself, How can I get all these things done? How can I do what I need to do?

And then I looked up in mid-sprint, and saw a road sign. It read:

“NO PARKING ANY TIME. BEGIN.”

Hit me like a blast of cold air. Keep running, keep moving. Let the energy and ideas pour out together. Just begin. Dive in and start working.

And don’t stop running.

You’ll get where you want to go.

It felt good to run; felt good to have the fresh air. I could have kept moving back and forth, back and forth, till I collapsed from exhaustion. But that’s the thing about running–you won’t get anywhere unless you have a destination in mind, a purpose. If you’re not running toward something specific, you’re merely burning energy.

So I plied my feet back toward the house. Back to my office room, back to my ideas. And I’m simply digging in.

No parking at any time.

Begin.

A while ago I created an ACEO to commemorate the home run ball that broke Hank Aaron’s record. Since I wanted to have the artwork ready to go live as soon as the ball sailed into the air, I painted it a day in advance. Knowing that the Giants would be playing a home game, I was hoping that if Barry Bonds did indeed hit the home run, it would clear the walls of the park and come to rest in McCovey Cove—a happening that they call a “Splash Ball.” Being a fairy tale artist, I thought it would be cute if a mermaid was the one who wound up claiming the ball, while humans buzzed around in their boats, searching for it in the background.

Well, Bonds did in fact hit his home run the following day—but it wasn’t a Splash Ball. So I did what I could and entitled my piece, “#756—What If??” It sold to a collector, and everything was hunky dory. Oddly enough, Bonds’ very next homer sailed into McCovey Cove. I thought to myself, perhaps what this mermaid actually has is home run #757.

Well, in the news today, I see that the real home run ball #756 has been purchased by someone who plans to let the public decide the fate of the item. He has an online poll open, with three choices: 1: Brand the ball with an asterisk; 2: Launch it into space; and 3: Donate it to the Hall of Fame.

Bonds’ home run before that, ball #755, also sold to a person who will let the public decide what he should do with it. His poll has two options: 1: Destroy it; or 2: Donate it to the Hall of Fame.

It seems to me that home runs #755 and #756 have a slightly precarious position. The possibility exists that they might disappear off the face of this earth—literally.

Looks like the mermaid just may have caught the most valuable ball.

Now for the question—what would I vote if I voted? I think I’d use the same mindset I have for politics: I believe that the office of the President of the United States deserves respect, regardless of what one’s feelings toward the person in the office may be.

So I’d say send them to Cooperstown, out of respect for the game itself.

The other alternatives, however, may drastically increase the value of my ACEO.