What a waste to miss out on what’s here because we're too busy whining about dreaming about scheming about what’s over there.
I help busy people do inner work.
What a waste to miss out on what’s here because we're too busy whining about dreaming about scheming about what’s over there.
It’s quiet up here Above clouds Above signals Above noise I’m disconnected And my mind begins to float. Looking down I imagine What’s being said What’s being heard What’s calling for attention And I brush at my beard over what’s not. Not everything needs noise To feel seen To feel heard To feel connected But noise isn't the type To just give in or relent. The window calls me back And as I look upon the clouds And vast sky And bend of the earth I feel a deep sense of calm and— I glance back at my screen I clack a few keys Move around a few lines And unknowingly wonder how I might Maximize this poem's Shares and likes.
When we exhale our desires we can breath in the happiness that was there all along.
Sometimes, experiencing the emotions that come from messing up lights a fire that accelerates improvement faster than contentment ever could.
What you say to me about others says a lot about what you say about me to others.
Maybe our real nature isn’t to live unbroken. Maybe our real nature is to continuously break down until all that’s left is what's real.
Sometimes you need to stop seeing the good in people And start seeing what they are actually showing you.