March 10th, 2020

speaker, coach, consultant

The pleasure of writing

“The first draft of anything is shit.”
Ernest Hemingway

I was up at 5.30 am but I knew that if I started to write today's post, I wouldn't have time to finish it. 

In any event, I needed to clean the house, walk the dog and wanted to enjoy an unhurried breakfast with Mrs S and daughter #3.

And so, here I am, sitting at my desk (at work!) typing these few words.

For me, blogging, writing an almost daily journal and a few poems has been an immense joy; and I've never taken it for granted — both the inspiration and the technology.

But, as I reflect on my life, I wonder why I started so late?

It's not that I think I would have been any better but writing is cumulative much like any craft. In fact, it's one of the few things infinite in its scope.

Never mind. It is what it is.

One thing I do know is that as long as I've got the passion, energy and ability, I'll continue to write. I'd like to think I've got a choice but that quiet voice that appears daily will, I'm sure, keep me pinned to my seat, bashing out a few more lines to (inter alia) make sense of this discombobulated world.

Bring it on.

Have a wonderful day.

Much love, Ju.

Photo by Jan Kahánek on Unsplash

speaker, coach, consultant

Where we spend our time

I read this pithy blog from Nicholas Bate, and it got me thinking...

Time is an illusion but a heady one, nevertheless.

We're dictated to by our habits and routines. What if we weren't?

If time is all we've got, why do we treat it so irrationally?

Despite being 52, I don't feel any wiser about the meaning of life than I did when I was 14 — my angry phase.

I know I'm spinning plates. What am I waiting for? Another wake-up call?

We're not very good at recognising the important from the urgent. What if we lived each day as if it were our last? Would that improve our level of discernment?

How much time do I have left?

Ju.

Photo by Andrik Langfield on Unsplash

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