Didn’t really want to put this up. Quick break from editing. Needed my morning green. Writing more. Blogging less. The beach house I long for looms in the short distance. I’m not speaking of wealth. Or the acquisition of things with more tags and labels. Giving you more tags and labels.
No. Never been a point of interest. What does peak the former is my need for my own schedule. I’ve grown tired of adhering to someone else’s. I’ve spent my entire life avoiding routine only to discover that it had become just one. I won’t go into this long diatribe naming people, places and things. The point is now moot.
This morning I wrote a note to myself. More like journaled. Telling myself that I must develop a daily routine. And stick with it. The moon dust in me has never allowed for such thinking. Nomadic in spirit. A wanderer by nature. Always stopping and starting. Afraid to see anything through.
Gone now are such juvenile notions. Not because I’ve reached a certain age. Or found myself dozing in this unrelenting web of wisdom. No. It is none of that. My heart aches because I am not free to express what I see and feel. I must get it out. And more out. And more out. In order to do that I have to become stern in my approach.
Waste less time. Have the next step in mind. Discipline brings balance. That is all I am seeking. Ciao.
lots of kale
lots of spinach
granny Smith apple