Trying my best

I find it hard to know what the hell I'm doing most of the time. There are no useful metrics to tell me if I'm doing it right. Am I making a difference. Does it matter anyway?

I measure myself constantly. My value, my adequacy, the circumference of my thighs, my cholesterol, my patience and kindness. I drink the data in like it will tell me what to do next. Give back more, eat less, clean the house.

A relentless race, where I don't know the course, the only finish line is death, and no one cares if I'm winning.

In the face of the human condition, I want to learn to sit still. I want to put my measure down. I want to record nothing. No facebook post, no status update, no shouting out to the world that I'm trying my best.

Just a quiet push and pull of breath and blood. The simple act of existing.

Space and time

It's my birthday. A moment marked in time, an arbitrary distinction that precipitates reflection despite its relative meaninglessness.

I feel old. Older than my 37 years. Heavier and slower, as though time is speeding by and I'm left behind feeling the drag.

I also feel hopeful. Like infinite small moments exist for me to grab a better hold of the space and time around me.

This daily blog will be my tether. My place to document these infinite small moments. I hope that by acknowledging the void, I will slowly fill it. By quietly celebrating my vessel, it will feel less old and less tired.

I'm starting simple. I'm checking in with myself and I'm drinking more water. I'm thirsty. I'm thirsty, but I'm always running around too busy to quench the need. How crazy is that? One of the most simple requirements for life, and I'm too busy? So it starts, this first day of my 38th year, with a blog post and some water, a metaphorical drop into the void and a literal drop into my body.

The ultimate goal is to make it to 38 less thirsty, less heavy, and less slow.