What I want. What I need. What is. The difference between “what is” and everything else can’t be measured. But it can be felt. In the plummeting sensation in the chest cavity. In feeling like a fragile piece of glass at risk of breaking. Or like moving in slow motion through molasses. It’s not fun. But I have a choice. I can’t change what is. So I slowly, painfully, regretfully, and mournfully seek to let go of what is wanted. Maybe even of what is needed. To perhaps allow room for something ...

What I want. What I need. What is. The difference between “what is” and everything else can’t be measured. But it can be felt. In the plummeting sensation in the chest cavity. In feeling like a fragile piece of glass at risk of breaking. Or like moving in slow motion through molasses. It’s not fun. But I have a choice. I can’t change what is. So I slowly, painfully, regretfully, and mournfully seek to let go of what is wanted. Maybe even of what is needed. To perhaps allow room for something ...

Or is it Pessimistic Optimism? I feel the weight of my perceived reality. Though I may hope, on the deepest of levels, that external facts may change. I also know, in those same deep places--my gut, my heart-- that they never will. My arms and shoulders feel heavy. My eyebrows sag under the weight of the despair. A time of perpetual sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns is simply never going to happen. It’s easy to get dark, to give up. The challenge is to keep walking, keep smiling, keep breathin...

Or is it Pessimistic Optimism? I feel the weight of my perceived reality. Though I may hope, on the deepest of levels, that external facts may change. I also know, in those same deep places--my gut, my heart-- that they never will. My arms and shoulders feel heavy. My eyebrows sag under the weight of the despair. A time of perpetual sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns is simply never going to happen. It’s easy to get dark, to give up. The challenge is to keep walking, keep smiling, keep breathin...

There’s a time to plant. A time to reap. In between is neither. I can’t make the flower bloom by pulling back the petals. Nor can I assess the quality of the harvest by how the field looks in the middle of the season. Yes, there may be some tending to do, but mostly, I must be patient, recognizing that I did the work and now I await the results. I find this part, the in-between, the patience; this is the hardest of all parts because it is the non-doing. The non-action. That’s when the fear cr...

There’s a time to plant. A time to reap. In between is neither. I can’t make the flower bloom by pulling back the petals. Nor can I assess the quality of the harvest by how the field looks in the middle of the season. Yes, there may be some tending to do, but mostly, I must be patient, recognizing that I did the work and now I await the results. I find this part, the in-between, the patience; this is the hardest of all parts because it is the non-doing. The non-action. That’s when the fear cr...

I see it, but I don’t like it. The signs. The writing on the wall. The evidence. Call it what you will. Each day, my eyes recognize even more, but I cling, ferociously and scared, to the previous image. It was there for so long. It was beautiful. It was comforting. I don’t want it to go. But it’s gone, replaced by a new one. I don’t like it as much. I long for the old one. It’s basically a form of willful blindness.

I see it, but I don’t like it. The signs. The writing on the wall. The evidence. Call it what you will. Each day, my eyes recognize even more, but I cling, ferociously and scared, to the previous image. It was there for so long. It was beautiful. It was comforting. I don’t want it to go. But it’s gone, replaced by a new one. I don’t like it as much. I long for the old one. It’s basically a form of willful blindness.

Bad things happen. Good things happen. There are good people. There are bad people. Those exist in different dimensions. One doesn’t affect the other. Good people do good things which impacts people. That’s my chance to tilt the collective experience for the better. But that doesn’t mean that bad things won’t happen. They do. And just because I can’t prevent them doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try to make them the exception rather than the rule.

Bad things happen. Good things happen. There are good people. There are bad people. Those exist in different dimensions. One doesn’t affect the other. Good people do good things which impacts people. That’s my chance to tilt the collective experience for the better. But that doesn’t mean that bad things won’t happen. They do. And just because I can’t prevent them doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try to make them the exception rather than the rule.

Just the thought of interacting with certain people leads to a tensing of my shoulders. I can feel the heart rate increase. The hormones are activated. It’s like I’m putting on emotional armor. My muscles are tense. I’m far from relaxed. Maybe it’s what we call stress. The sad thing is that the “encounter” hasn’t happened. It may never. And even if it does, because I’m all armored up, it’s more likely to result in hardness instead of softness. Does it have to be that way? Aren’t I allowing ot...

Just the thought of interacting with certain people leads to a tensing of my shoulders. I can feel the heart rate increase. The hormones are activated. It’s like I’m putting on emotional armor. My muscles are tense. I’m far from relaxed. Maybe it’s what we call stress. The sad thing is that the “encounter” hasn’t happened. It may never. And even if it does, because I’m all armored up, it’s more likely to result in hardness instead of softness. Does it have to be that way? Aren’t I allowing ot...

I see a supertanker laden with containers. Only this tanker is in my mind and the containers surround me. They aren’t standardized. They are varied. Trees, cars, basketball hoops, fences, bananas, bookshelves, and cash. Each of them is a container, a repository, a temporary means of transporting energy from one place and time to another. Some hold their form, their utility, their value for longer than others do. Some are large. Some are small. Some can be held in my hand. Some can only be hel...

I see a supertanker laden with containers. Only this tanker is in my mind and the containers surround me. They aren’t standardized. They are varied. Trees, cars, basketball hoops, fences, bananas, bookshelves, and cash. Each of them is a container, a repository, a temporary means of transporting energy from one place and time to another. Some hold their form, their utility, their value for longer than others do. Some are large. Some are small. Some can be held in my hand. Some can only be hel...

We can’t see them, but they power us. Push us forward. Hold us back. We can’t hold them, but we value them highly. We claim to cherish the rational, the tangible, the measurable. But all rests on a foundation of ephemerality.

We can’t see them, but they power us. Push us forward. Hold us back. We can’t hold them, but we value them highly. We claim to cherish the rational, the tangible, the measurable. But all rests on a foundation of ephemerality.

We work. On whatever it is. Our jobs. Ourselves. It doesn’t matter. We invest energy. We derive value. The value is recognized immediately. Or we desire to store it for the unknown future. But if that value degrades over time and space, we lose some of the benefit of our work. Storing value over time generates wealth (not only measured on the financial axis). It’s a multi-dimensional matrix

We work. On whatever it is. Our jobs. Ourselves. It doesn’t matter. We invest energy. We derive value. The value is recognized immediately. Or we desire to store it for the unknown future. But if that value degrades over time and space, we lose some of the benefit of our work. Storing value over time generates wealth (not only measured on the financial axis). It’s a multi-dimensional matrix

There’s a shift in the wind. The clouds are moving faster. The sky is darkening. Experience’s algorithm says “a storm is coming.” But there’s a picnic! An outdoor wedding! A baseball game! The plan for the day would be “ruined.” What’s the length of time between the moment where I realize that the plan is “ruined” and the beginning of mitigating action? How long do I sit in denial? How long do I bemoan the situation without doing anything about it? Is there a way to “train” myself, like a mus...

There’s a shift in the wind. The clouds are moving faster. The sky is darkening. Experience’s algorithm says “a storm is coming.” But there’s a picnic! An outdoor wedding! A baseball game! The plan for the day would be “ruined.” What’s the length of time between the moment where I realize that the plan is “ruined” and the beginning of mitigating action? How long do I sit in denial? How long do I bemoan the situation without doing anything about it? Is there a way to “train” myself, like a mus...

The reaction may be different. Tension in the belly, a deep ache. Perhaps it’s a shot of some chemical through the body, that makes me feel my heart pumping harder. Or it may be outwardly directed. A burst of frustration. Perhaps irritation; even anger. Maybe it’s another flick of the doom scroll. Or a check of an app. Whatever it is, it’s often the same cause. A feeling of vulnerability…from which I want to run away, fly away, as quickly as possible. Now, at least, I recognize that’s the sou...

The reaction may be different. Tension in the belly, a deep ache. Perhaps it’s a shot of some chemical through the body, that makes me feel my heart pumping harder. Or it may be outwardly directed. A burst of frustration. Perhaps irritation; even anger. Maybe it’s another flick of the doom scroll. Or a check of an app. Whatever it is, it’s often the same cause. A feeling of vulnerability…from which I want to run away, fly away, as quickly as possible. Now, at least, I recognize that’s the sou...

If your alarm doesn’t go off, did you still oversleep? Mine didn’t this morning. My disciplined, refined morning routine was destroyed before it even started. I took a breath. “This is all part of the training,” I thought. Acceptance set in immediately. No anger. There was nothing I could do about that fact. The adaptation and adjustment began. I guess the alarm woke me up after all.

If your alarm doesn’t go off, did you still oversleep? Mine didn’t this morning. My disciplined, refined morning routine was destroyed before it even started. I took a breath. “This is all part of the training,” I thought. Acceptance set in immediately. No anger. There was nothing I could do about that fact. The adaptation and adjustment began. I guess the alarm woke me up after all.