when i get tired with the world, or feel bored by
life, or forget i can do new and good things that actually help
people, stop. right then and there. read a book. have a conversation
about something that matters with someone who’s passionate. go outside and marvel. sit quietly for 2 minutes and think about memory, vastness, how it feels to have a heart. the world is too real to
waste it.
remember that on a not so cold day in january, i made new meaning of why i choose self-improvement as my forever quest: not because i want to be better than
anyone else or even my past self, but because nothing else makes sense on this repeat-cycle
earth than to go beyond where i am right now,
to do something more gracefully and graciously the next time, to be differenter every moment than the last.
i must strive. i must push. i will
make mistakes and muddy my face when i fall, and it will feel uncomfortable, even more so when the new me rubs tensely against the
old. there will always be conflict between the
way things were and the way things will be, the way i was and the way i will be. the best parts of
life will spark from that rub.
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