I'm reminded of a song that was my cradle song years ago. It was an experience I will never forget. It changed my life, the way I look and live life as well. That however is not what this story is about. It's about being afraid to live. Ahh. I said it. Keep breathing. I think we are on to something. I'm writing a short script and ebook at the same time. How do I stay focused on the projects? It is a challenge to do so but I must. I'm running against the clock now. I never would have admitted this five years ago but I wasn't near the half century window either. I desire clarity and to do this I must write and exercise. I'm working on getting the latter down better. Habits die hard, like eating late; drinking too much wine and sweets. Yes all a recipe for weight gain and stroke too. So to out live everyone I'm in action.
Being in action is easier said than done. I've started with the small things like eating breakfast and getting all the sweets out of the house. I drink lots of water but that is easy living in a desert. It is also to feed this hunger of completing what I started ten years ago. I keep hearing the song "Yes" and part of the lyrics say "I'm calling you out of your dry places." I've been called out of this desert and I'm leaving it sooner than later. I can feel this too. Yet I continue to put pictures on the wall and organize; throw out what is not needed. I want the government to move a full house. I desire to walk in from work or play and feel home not just a place I'm stopping over. I desire space to bring my grandchildren and all of sudden it's important to see her daily. I'm running yet being still. Learning to quiet my mind, body and soul to hear the words that get to be written on paper. It's something when we compare ourselves to others. I use to do that a lot. I found myself in constant motion; a humming bird flapping endless over a flower depleted of honey. I felt this was my state for a long time. It took work to stop being depressed and living in the past. It still takes work plus I realize the book will not get written in a day, week or month without consistency. It is the word I must chisel across the mountain outside my window. Then spray paint it in neon orange so I can see it in the day or evening. I beat myself up when I fall off the wagon of writing and eating. Both my loves and both can love me to death if I allow it. The next thing to do is have my own vision board party to manifest what I'm calling into this physical plane. I went to Metaphysical school many moons ago and now I'm using what I learned. It is now that some lessons are clear but that is life.. This tree is me catching the morning's rays. Shining light in my darkness.
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