Walk the dog.
Sign on for work.
Answer emails, texts, Skype chats, maybe phone calls.
Prevent potential fires.
Do something creative?
Take dog for walk.
Meetings, midday snack (for you and dog).
Look at your personal To Do list?
Missed calls and unanswered texts.
Lunch becomes early dinner.
Sun slowly descends.
Catch a glimpse, thanks to dog.
Hot tea brews.
Think of doing something creative?
Continue reading “something creative”
Days have passed but I have finally returned.
Early morning, another week, another chance.
Gonna make a change…
So many self-help books, audios, recordings, TV programs, courses, etc.
And yet, it’s about making that simple step on your own.
That giant scary step comes from you.
It’s not even a jump, it’s a little step forward.
Time keeps on slipping..
And yet, a friend passed away last week. Suddenly, in his sleep.
Makes a phone call at 4a to a friend, says he’s not feeling well and then — gone.
Continue reading “do what you can”
FADE IN: art gallery.
Him: No, my talent is a separate thing to me. It is a completely different identity. It is regal, it is grace, it is self-assurance. I am blubbering mess most of the time, but my talent it is the closest thing I have to God.
Her: Your talent is separate from you?
Him: That is correct. It is “other”. It is where I draw strength from — I mean, I cannot explain it. I bow down to my talent. It does not need me. That is what is very fascinating to me.
She looks on inquisitively.
Him: So many people want something or need something. The talent inside me does not need me. It channels through me, if the line is clear, and if not, it stops. It has no desire for me, so of course, I come running to it. I am addicted to it.
Him: No, really, I am at its service. I will do anything for it. I hope one day I can take on some of that confidence, that grace, that effortlessness.
She looks at his painting.
Him: This piece is in honor of the Greatness inside me.
She: That’s not you.
Him: Correct, that is not me.
He smiles at his work with pride.
More belly laughs
More moments of joy
Less time spent shopping.
Continue reading “more | less”
There’s a break in the chain in every once in a while.
A sudden “Oh no!”
I loose the feel of the ground, of my surroundings, that I’m being held.
“Maybe life forgot me,” I say to him, cradled in his arms.
“What are you talking about? Look at your amazing life,” he says.
“You’re right,” I say, my head held with shame. Stupid voices.
“You have so much abundance in your life: you got love, a great home, a great dog; you got health, you got it all.”
I nod to him, he’s so right. “I know. It’s an old voice creeping in.”
I get scared sometimes.
I hold on, I grip, I forget that I’m not in control.
It’s an old habit that creeps in every once in a while.
When does it visit me?
When things are quiet. And still. And steady.
When everything is as it is.
When I’m relaxed, at ease and simply happy, and then suddenly I grip —
“I need more,” says my fear as it creeps in.
Am I doing enough? No.
Can I be doing more? Yes.
“Excellence is an art won by training and habituation. We do not act rightly because we have virtue or excellence, but we rather have those because we have acted rightly. We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit.”