Grandpa, my mom’s dad, giving me some advice about life. Can’t remember his exact words, but it was something to the order of living my life, it’s all my choice, I have the wherewithal and control to do whatever I want.
Next dream, me asking Dad how he got what he wanted, and arrived where he is. He said something like, “I rigged everything in my favor.” Reminding me of the Rumi quote.
So, in the chair now. Not too much going on this final day of fiscal. Tired, not sleeping too well last night. Excited to see the kids, family dinner, all of us together…
Oooooo— Am I allowed to write that?
Thinking in poetic angularity on 80 and 12, 29 then 12, 101 to this first floor office which I now call the Focus Room.
No music, just listening to rain. Not second-guessing SELF, even molecularly. Realizing one thing, then another, and all from the music I listened to in transport.
Calm…. ZEN. The vertical focus is SELF. Words become works, like Seneca said.