Fog.

Bodhilama had been procrastinating about writing all day..
And now it happened again.
He wrote at night.
Actually, he didn't like writing at night.
The night was for resting.

"If I don't write in the morning or afternoon,
I carry this thought with me in my head.
I spend the whole day thinking that I still have to write.
Then I can't really enjoy the day.
And when I write in the evening, I just want to finish so that I can go to bed.
The quality of my texts suffers enormously as a result."

Bodhilama didn't feel good.
He wanted to get rid of this crappy habit.
He was on a good path, but the last two days had taken him out of the flow.

"Now I don't feel like writing again.
I'm not enjoying it at the moment.
Even though I enjoyed it two days ago.
I want to do it again.
I'm going to go to bed early tonight, otherwise I'll sleep too long."

He felt bad. He wanted to write nice things.
He wanted to write things that felt good to him.
What he wrote today left a big heavy feeling in his stomach.
He wasn't proud of himself today.
He tried to feel good about it, but today it was hard.

"It's okay Bodhi, let's just go to sleep.
Tomorrow is a new day.

Lovely,
Bodhilama

These are the Letters of Bodhilama, a guy who lives in a time of transformation.
A guy who felt the urge to write, because nothing else made any sense.
A guy who is a student, teacher & creator of (wild)Planet108.
A solar punk finding his way on the game's journey of life.
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