A calendar is my best, worst attempt at convincing myself that I have some degree of control.
I am Chicken Little. When left to my own thoughts, and running on self-will, I am perpetually concerned that my life is about to fall-in upon me. I have convinced myself that my business of seventeen years is collapsing at least quarterly. I look at various overpasses and bridges to determine which ones I will live under when my family leaves me and my house is foreclosed upon. And, I have a long list of health problems from an occasional headache to a seasonal cough, which I have googled myself into believing is a brain tumor and lung cancer.
I believe that life will swallow me up whole by tomorrow morning unless I practice gratitude today. Yet, I have things on my calendar for two years down the road.
So, which is it? Am I going to die of destitution within the upcoming weeks or should I make plans for 2020?
Where is the consistency? I will tell you.
It is based on my degree of spirituality. When I try to steer the ship, I am always certain of a doomsday iceberg. When I sit-back and exhibit faith, the world is all roses.
I’m not sure why I manically shift from a sensation of gratitude and spirituality at one moment, and by the next red light, I am having an improv argument behind my steering wheel with a person I don’t like about a situation that hasn’t occurred yet….and when the make-believe argument doesn’t work out the way I intended, I take it from the top and have the same make-believe fight all over again. It’s exhausting.
If I live life according to my calendar and the way that things have been to this point, it would be silly for me to be anything but delighted about the life ahead of me. If I live life according to the thoughts that go through my head when I am God-less, faith-less, and trying to control the outcome of things, it’s all boxes under bridges and panhandling at intersections.
Peace, Love, and all things Beef related,