I complained earlier today about how, well, dull our life is sometimes. And I was promptly told that it’s a matter of how you choose to look at life.
Ah, he doesn’t say much, but when he does he often surprises me with his insight. Of course it’s a matter of perspective; almost everything is.
Life isn’t dull – I’m just a little lazy right now. We’ve booked a holiday for next week which will surely jolt me out of the lethargic state I’ve grown accustomed to over the last few weeks.
This holiday has real potential. I’m very excited at the prospect of canoeing and camping. He doesn’t seem excited about anything, but then he never does.
(Unless it involves the pub.)
Things are good between us right now, but the thought that we’re just delaying the inevitable has entered my mind on a few occassions.
There are some people you meet who you instantly connect with on a level you can barely recognise; a connection that runs deeper than words or actions. Just by sharing the same space, the same air, by sitting close to one another, you KNOW each other. You don’t need to talk, or make promises, because you both understand that yes, you’ll see each other again, that the other person is as aware of the connection as you are.
The Pirate was never one of those people. We seem to live life on different frequencies – we see and hear different things, care about different things, right down to the way we think about birthdays and cups of tea.
My wise aunt once pointed out the biggest difference between me and my wonderful sister. To me, life and everything in it is about the journey. The step by step process of making things happen, of watching things unfold, of enjoying the moments along the way. My sister is more concerned with the destination – I don’t fully understand what this means to her, but I know she’s more interested in the outcome of a particular event than she is in the event itself. I think the Pirate is like that too – to me, he seems impatient and disinterested, but he’s probably just seeing things from his own perspective.
Maybe he’s all the bad things, and I keep making excuses.
Misery. It’s been on my mind.
We all know someone who loves to wallow in their own sadness, whose home is like a cave of despair, whose only joy in life is the gossip generated by their melodrama. Who loves being sick, and has a special sick voice that’s taken out once a month and accompanied by some sick clothes and paraded around the house like an homage to illness and gloom. Who is constantly struggling with some huge difficulty of a completely unsolveable nature.
And we all know someone who is the total opposite – who reports good news regardless of what they’re dealing with, who sees every problem as a challenge, every failure as a motivation to succeed. Who is a joy to be around, who brings smiles to the faces of others, who loves life with every cheerful atom of their being.
The thing is, there’s no difference between a sad person’s life and a happy one’s. The only difference is their attitude. There’s no difference between a ‘good’ day and a ‘bad’ one – it’s just a matter of how you look at it. Embrace the day. Live the moment. Carpe diem, and all that jazz.
To put it simply… if you love the world, it will love you back.
I’ve taken a bit of a holiday these last few weeks – from the business, from my life, from myself somehow. I feel as if I’m standing on the sidelines, waiting for something to happen. It’s not like me at all; my mind is usually buzzing with thoughts and ideas, I talk at ninety miles an hour, I live and breathe the work that I do.
Now, it all seems a little distant. I’ve had clients, super sessions, and people are getting results, but I’m not that excited by it. I sit down to work and end up looking for GHDs on ebay or dowloading Agatha Christie games… mindless stuff that seems to be keeping me busy. I have fleeting thoughts about the business, little flashes of inspiration now and then, but I can’t seem to process them. I have scraps of paper covered with marketing ideas and deadlines that are festering away on my bedroom floor. I turned one over yesterday to scribble a meatpie recipe on the back, and spent the afternoon in the kitchen.
I wish I knew what I was waiting for. I have a meeting this weekend that could be the future. I think I need someone to give me some encouragement at this stage, someone who is willing to put as much of themselves into this as I do. Someone who will get excited about the prospects and possibilities that lie before us. Maybe the problem is that I think too much, have too many ideas, and end up unsure of where to focus my efforts. Torn between my various passions, easily distracted by long lunches and endless cups of tea.
Regardless, I need to move on with things. The pirate and I have had a few weeks to settle into a routine that works for us both, and there’s nothing else on my mind these days. He’s been fantastic, lately. He’s so sure of me, more than I am of myself sometimes. He doesn’t say much, but we spoke about my work last weekend, and his confidence in me was such a boost.
It’s time to get back into the driving seat.
**Life shouldn’t be a spectator sport.**
