Anything is better than… nothing

February 22, 2026
Owl Feather Farm, San Juan Island

It’s 35 degrees outside.

The sky is the color of a soggy sock you lost behind the dryer a month ago, and the air is as murky as potato water.

The dogs don’t want to go out, and the ponies are huddled in the barn waiting for a fresh hay pizza pie to appear.

Everything’s gray—tree trunks, clouds above, ground below, the light in the corner behind the wood pile. Shadows gray, old leaves gray, geese passing by above… gray.

The season of resting and rejuvenating is over, and now we’re in the season of slumping around, feeling down and lumping about.

The Super Bowl’s done, and the team’s for sale to tech bros in Miami. Spring training is underway, 2,000 light years from home.

What’s a body to do?

Anything.

Ten minutes of stretching—yes, do that.

Twenty sit-ups.

Ten curls, eight upright rows.

Walk around the block. Stroll to the barn with biscuits.

Split two fir rounds on your way back.

Five squats while the coffee’s perking.

A truncated Pilates routine, 5 reps instead of 10—sure. If it comes up in conversation with your local fitness executive, invoke the don’t ask, don’t tell rule.

Anything is better than… nothing
This is the wrong approach—but he's just a puppy

Whatever you do, don’t do nothing. Yes, it’s hard when the universe is slobbing a quilt of gray over everything, physically and metaphysically. You open the door for a midmorning fresh air break and the dogs glare at you like you just escaped from the looney farm. A thin crust of ice in the water trough has a dozen fir needles frozen in it, and that’s all gray and clammy, ice, fir needles, water itself.

Just do something. Give yourself grace to adapt your spiritual footing to the prevailing metaphysical reality. We all are of the universe, not apart from it. To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. And one day the time will come for one-hour exercise routines and two-hour jaunts to the beach for a swim.

God does not keep score. We do. But there is no score for nothing.

Just… something. Anything. Today.

—Eric Lucas

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