Something funny about committing to doing this every day, just the simple act of writing something every day, is how it’s showing up every other area in my life where I’m not following through with things. Today I’m hungover, both from the two beers I consumed last night and the burger and fries I had to accompany them. I didn’t sleep well, and that makes the third day in a row of too little sleep.
Two weeks ago that would just be a throw away, another lost morning, no big. But today it means I can’t get my thoughts to gather, they’re too busy bumping into each other and falling over to hold hands and sing Kumbaya in unison as I arrive at another breathtaking revelation about being and nothingness.
I feel like my nephew, T, in the picture above, being poked at poolside by Palm Springs revelers. In this awkward metaphor the revelers are playing my unruly thoughts and seriously, I’m starting to loathe them. I initially chose this shot because it really makes me laugh and because I really want to be on vacation today and NOT write anything, but on closer examination I’m sharing T’s unease. Stop poking me, thoughts! Leave me alone! You drunk! You fat and stupid ! (my thoughts, not the people in this picture – I don’t know the people in this picture, I’m sure they’re very nice)
Anyway, I didn’t start this because it was going to be easy or fun. I didn’t start it to be brilliant or know everything or be perfect or even happy. I started it because I knew I needed to. I need a discipline, a daily discipline, a daily reminder to be what I say I am, to be Wonder, to show up even when I don’t feel like it and can’t do it well. I need to show up and do it anyway.
Damn it. Fucking Saturn. FINE. Take this offering, I hope you choke on it.