I’m working on pitches for prospective editing clients. Mom and Dad, however, are home on a snow day. So they’re making homemade ice cream with fresh fallen snow.
Sunday evening (eh, Monday morning) routine.
Life indeed is like a box of chocolates.
But hopefully there’s a chart printed on the back of the lid or somewhere showing which chocolates are where.
Yes, not knowing which one you’re going to get is adventurous and thrilling as you discover flavors you never knew you’d like.
Other times, though, adventure sucks. And all you want is the good pleasure of what you already know works for you and the comfort of having your needs met just as you expect them to be.
Chocolate charts let you choose which road - adventure or comfort - you want to take that day.
The problem is that not all chocolate boxes have charts.
However, never fear.
Just don’t eat the nasty chocolates. If you happen to bite into one, spit it out immediately yet discreetly into the nearest napkin you can find.
There’s nothing worse than forcing yourself to eat chocolates you don’t like. Or living a life you don’t want.
But good chocolates? Bite with exuberance into each one of them. Savor their sweetness and chew them slowly so that you’re fully aware of every aspect of every morsel. Commit to making your time with good chocolates intense and last as long as you can.
You’ll be glad you did.
Just don’t waste good chocolates by being afraid to eat them right when you should, opting to store or save them for later.
Chocolates don’t work that way.
Put them in the refrigerator, and they’ll get hard and cold. And you can’t bite into hard, cold chocolates. And even if you can, you won’t enjoy it much.
Let them sit out too long, though, and they’ll become a messy goo.
Instead, chocolates were meant for eating in the moments at hand. It’s the only way to pleasurable, remorseless, moment-by-moment, good chocolate-eating times.
And life? Well, it really is like a box of chocolates.
Building dreams is hard work.
Wussies needn’t apply.
Which is why it’s great to feel that payoff moment when you know that breakthrough is near.
You know the moment. It’s when you’re grateful that you didn’t skip all those practices leading up to the big event afterall.
That you dragged yourself to early morning workouts - or in my case to coffeehouse after coffeehouse to ensure that I didn’t wilt away day after day inside my own house, moping that I didn’t have anything purposeful to do.
Because I did. And still do.
Writing. Planning. Networking. Writing some more. Revising. Deciding. Implementing. Forgiving. Letting go. Moving forward. Writing. Pruning and planting. Connecting. Implementing revisions. Moving forward still.
Now somehow the efforts to gather lessons life has taught me so far and form a new career revolving around them are beginning to jell, and months of preparation are paying off.
Not that I’m there yet, however. The sight of finish-line tape breaking against my chest is still a replay of previous victories overlaid onto my mind’s-eye image of the newest goal.
But I can hear the tape tearing anyway, crisp and clean.
And just knowing that breakthrough is near makes me happy.
Which is why I can’t help but smile as I realize that with each successive step I reconfirm that I’m no one’s wussie.
And that other sound I hear?
That’s me easing into a stride, breathing.
A writer writes. Right?
I’ve long mulled participating in a colleague’s blog that offers space to create with words.
Three simple words. That’s all he gives as a boost each Wednesday, and anyone who answers the call can do with those words whatever they choose.
And a writer writes. Right?
So, here it goes:
Desperate to press past the cunning, invisible force in her head that’s combating her forward motion and turning every successful step she makes into an act of sheer will, she clings to each word like a desert traveler drinking her last drops of water.
Straining to attune her spirit to his, she shuts her eyes to concentrate solely on every syllable she hears.
“He has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.”
Momentarily taken aback at how long it’s been since she’s heard these words, or even read these words for herself, it ends up not bothering her much that’s she’s forgotten the first lines to this piece of sacred text that she used to read daily back in the days of living in the basement.
Now in the throws of another major turnaround designed to finish once and for all what she began in that basement, she murmurs in response the last few words of the line in a chant-like rhythm until she remembers her vow to always speak from now on with full voice, completely releasing the power of any words she’s chosen to speak at any given moment, even if she’s just talking to herself while folding the laundry.
“Good news to the poor.” “Good news to the poor.” “Good news to the poor.”
To participate, go to http://www.threewordwednesday.com. Today’s words are cling, murmur and taken.
Today’s trail: Half of the red one. Liked it. Now on to the crab feast! (Taken with Instagram at Conway Robinson State Forest)
Apparently, I’m having a throwback moment. No gadgets during today’s artist date. Just a paper and pad. (Taken with Instagram at Panera Bread)
Came in the mail today … Downside of East Coast living. (Taken with instagram)
I’m 45! Oh, my! When did that happen?! (Taken with instagram)