Sometimes a dream is only meant to have a portfolio — not an audition, or a role — a handshake, if you will, before it can go on its merry way.

Check in.

I’m happy. I have a steady morning routine. I am proud of the fact that I am actively writing, nearly every day, whether that be composing songs on the piano, writing poetry, or dedicating time to my blog — I’m writing. A lot. See? I’m doing it write now — I mean right* now. That was a natural mistake, I actually did that. It’s not a cheap joke — it happened, I – anyway… I’m writing. I have a stable morning routine. I play ball on the weekends. I spend quality time with my son in the mornings, work is fruitful, my personality is piercing through the blinds; I’m being seen, just as I am seeing myself. I am happy.

Double Check in.

It is now August 21st, and everything has changed. I haven’t written since I wrote this on the plane flying home from Honolulu in Jöölai; I haven’t played any ball this month, either; my son has entered his terrible two’s — five months late, thank god: any sooner and I don’t think I would have made it. And, to top it all off, I have strayed so far from the goals that created this blog in the first place. I haven’t been intentional with my movement, my water, my food, my sleep, my spending, my friendships, I mean — what happened? I feel I am in a constant battle with myself over these things and yet, still, I am happy, so that’s gotta mean something.

Moving forward.

Goals

My original goals for this month were to spend more time with my dog, stay focused on my basketball matches, and incorporate more playing time in-between my writing sessions, specifically video games, piano, even the guitar. I have done none of those things — and that’s not to say I neglect my dog, he just deserves more than his servings of food, water, and bathroom breaks. I also wanted to take a dance class this month with my sister and celebrate my husband’s 28th lap around the sun (which is the only thing I can really say with confidence has been achieved — though, not the dancing part, my husband’s birthday — which, if we’re being honest, was coming with or without me, but more on this later). The only real goal I have stayed true to is actually a secret I hope to reveal by the end of this month, which of course, is coming up pretty fast. 

And my first instinct is to write a pick-me-up line and say, despite everything, not all is lost, because it’s true. I’ve had a great month. I’m happy. Life is good. How? Why? Because instead of listing out all my mishandled goals and sulking over my failures, I recognize that, all of this, is voluntary. 

I’m an adult. I am not being graded on my level of growth. Growth is not just about solving some self-concocted mystery of who we are, it’s about embracing every detail of the road while we’re driving to who we want to be; the views can change from sights of green to brown to yellow to blue; roads can be a one way, freeway, high way; lanes can be closed and detours insisted; traffic lights come in three colors, for a reason. One day, Forrest Gump just decided to stop running, but why, if it was in the middle of the road, with nothing in sight, no destination to justify an ending? Because it’s not about the ending, it never is. It’s about stopping to smell the roses, and then searching for another field, with different smelling roses. It’s about the moment. What you’re doing now.

Life is not defined by the destination, we hear this all the time. Life is an RV in constant motion to different campsites. Settling in, packing up, and moving out. It’s a cycle, just like the time on a clock and the days in a year; the seasons, the generations, it’s all cyclical. So much so that sometimes I get dizzy, but then I take a step back, and take a detour.

Not all dreams were meant to breathe life into this world. Sometimes just starting to create life in a dream is enough to lay it back down to rest. That is the kind of life we have the power to create and so make life about the process of creating, not the creation. 

And something I can say I’ve been doing very regularly this month has been, reading.

*Gasp* I know.

Unfortunately, something it’s forced me to discover about myself is that I — am a very slow reader.

21 days, 15 minutes per, and only 30 pages to show for it. 

Sigh. Nevertheless, I am happy. 

So, if all I do for the rest of this month is embrace my morning routine, my work, and my slowness, I will work to be intentional in my practice of accepting these things as enough.

What about you? Can you accept yourself as enough? Is what you’re doing enough?

Think about it.

Cheers, 
B.