I’m usually a mess. Scattered and splattered and easily brought down. I used to blame it on my creative nature. After all, I’m an artist. I wholeheartedly embrace the insanity gene I inherited from some long-dead ancestor. I mean, how else can I account for those voices whispering in my head?
But I’m in transition now, working to separate THOSE voices from MY voices.
If I allow it, MY voices loudly berate me because the dust bunnies are on the rampage and the fridge is empty…again. And listen, the roads will be icy tomorrow and I might have to leave my house and navigate ice covered streets better made for skates. And gosh, wouldn’t it be fun to head somewhere warm—sans computer—and lie on a beach and listen to the waves crash against the shoreline? Maybe spend the winter chilling with a bottle of sunblock in my hand instead of a snow shovel?
However, with a deadline fast approaching, my life and my thoughts must revolve around the keyboard, and the voices that whisper their story in my ear. So when MY loud voice intrudes, and I get caught up in thoughts of tasks undone, past regrets, and unlikely-to-ever-occur fears, I take a deep breath, release it, and remember…all that exists is this moment, this day…and then I unsplatter and get back to the business of completing this book.
It doesn’t matter our age, whether we work inside or outside the home, whether we have children or not, whether those children are at the diaper stage, or full grown and on their own.
Life is too short to focus on past regrets or future fears. There’s only enough time today for…well, the moments that make up today.
So tell me…do you celebrate each moment as it happens? Or do the voices in your head demand you spend time on past regrets and future fears and everything in-between? Please tell me in the comments below what you plan to do in the moments after you leave this page. And then tell me whether or not you’ll intentionally and deliberately block out the disruptive voices so you can immerse yourself in the joy of each moment.
Last night, we had a series of thunder storms pass through our area. In the middle of the night, we stood on our roof covered deck while lightning flashed around us and thunder boomed in our ears.
I don’t recall having storms like this when I was a kid. But ever since a tornado swept through our area in 1987, killing 37 people, injuring hundreds more, my awareness of storms has increased.
Crazy storms like last night’s make my heart pound and my stomach churn. The lightning flashed like those disco strobe lights from the 80’s, blinding if you looked at it, impossible to avoid. It flashed so often and so quick, there was no time to close my eyes or look away. It rained so hard, it pounded on the rooftop like hail, while water filled the gentle curves and valleys on our property.
We stood there for nearly an hour, spellbound by the powerful, dangerous storm. Across the farmer’s field, two power transformers blew. The shockwave from a boom of thunder set off our neighbor’s car alarm, his headlights flashing on and off in the distance, the alarm barely distinguishable over the sound of the storm. A few minutes later, another shockwave turned on the light on our automatic garage door opener which was inside the closed garage.
After the storm blasted through, we climbed back into bed. Lightning flashed in the distance and thunder rumbled through the open bedroom window, bringing with it a cool breeze on my face. It was cozy and peaceful and put me to sleep.
Since ’87, we’ve had numerous tornadoes rip across the Canadian prairies, some with deadly consequences, others with only property damage. But when the threat of one is in the air, am I smart enough to stay indoors or hide in the basement? Apparently not.
How about you? What dangerous thing fascinates you more than it terrifies you?