Sometimes I hold my dog and he reminds me that relationships don’t last forever. Eventually one of us will have to go.
It feels like somehow he knows this better than I do. It’s hard to put into words.
I’ll be writing with my stomach and mind in knots because I can’t seem to get words to come out, and he’ll tap me on the forearm.
I’ll look over and he’s standing on his hind legs, with eyes made of glass saying Hey I’m still here, do you have a moment to spare?
We get pretty wrapped up with all the stuff that we do, to the point that we forget everything else that exists. Especially each other.
I don’t want to lose my connection to the world just because I’m busy. Most of the stuff I do probably isn’t even that important. I’d rather be here with my dogs, my girlfriend, my family and all of you than be doing some fruitless busy work.
If I can’t do that, I think I’d prefer to do nothing at all.
You know I keep trying to write these posts that are interesting. That’s the thing I’m always getting caught up in. How am I going to reach the world? How am I going to get people to read these words? How the heck am I going to turn this into a career?
When I write with those questions in mind, it doesn’t feel genuine. It’s just too calculated.
Good thing I usually end up throwing in the towel and writing something like you’re reading now. Because clearly, it’s more me.
We’re hopeless when we’re not ourselves. And being ourselves doesn’t involve conscious thought. It involves letting go of the ideas around who we think we are or who we think we should be and learning to live and be as we are. Something tells me that that’s more important than anything else.