Over the years I have been working on becoming more of a morning person, and for the most part I love it a lot, but when it comes to getting something done I am most effective from 7pm to midnight. It is just how I am wired, I suppose. If for some reason I need to finish something important before noon I transform into my schoolgirl self having to deal with her math homework. Back when that dreadful thing was a must, I would drive my mother out of her mind, while I desperately fought to find even the most remote of activities (because clearing out the closet was exceptionally important), just so that I would postpone (and prolong, I might add) the torture of numbers.
I was working late the other night on an urgent project.
Focused and exceptionally productive.
I usually like to have monotone background noise, which makes for a nice rhythm to paint to and helps me stay present. Youtube is convenient and I usually just set some podcasts on shuffle.
At one point I became aware of the subject, like I was woken up from a repetitive dream all of a sudden. It was a ted talk of a young woman, called Kalina Silverman, who had filmed people while they were answering some of her questions. I definitely recommend it.
Whenever I find myself at crossroads and don't know the way forward, I do nothing. Well, I do something, but it does not require any action at all. I learned to grant myself time and patience. Patience.
It has not come naturally when I was younger (holler if that sounds familiar!) , but the more life I get to live, the more I value my time, and so I see the importance of taking a conscious step back from the "line of fire" and breathe. Surrender...
I've been feeling the urge to de-clutter and clean. Spring clean. Deep clean. Simplify.
Not so much my outer environment, more so my inner world.
In times when I manage to thoroughly line up with a decision, however I proceed it becomes a success. But the challenging part is arriving at that firm, unshakable decision. That is truly the tough part.
Kalina asks two exceptional questions in her project to open up truly meaningful conversations.
What do you want to do before you die? and What if you found out you would die tomorrow?
I had put down the paint brush.
I closed my eyes. And I could feel silent tears sqeeze down my cheeks. Not sad tears. Grateful tears. Because at that very moment in time, no silence would have been as powerful as that second question. And while the answer to that question might not constitute the building blocks of a decision concretely, it sure points out a powerful direction in my life.
Only a handful of things matter in the end.
I have two I'd like to do on my last day here.
What about you? What would you do, if you found out that you were about to die and you had one, ONE last day?