Now that Running To has run to Amazon and other online booksellers, I find myself with a lot more free time.
More free time to practice guitar and work out.
More time to post on Instagram and Twitter and Facebook and engage with my following. Engage with my friends.
More free time to read.
More free time to write another book.
More free time to blog and produce other storytelling content with Your Other Brothers.
More free time to blog here.
In theory, I should have all the time in the world to produce a blog post every week. One measly yet meaningful 500- to 700-word post.
In theory, I should have all the time in the world to read and write. Filling the well and emptying it on a daily basis.
In theory, I should have all the time in the world to care for my body and mind and spirit.
In theory, I should have all the time in the world to do all my heart desires.
And yet theory doesn’t always translate to practice.
Practice takes, well, practice.
Practice takes days. Weeks. Months and years. An eternity.
Repetition. Pattern. Routine.
Over. And over. Embracing daily systems that both restrict you and free you all the same.
I thrive on order and despise it. Appreciating these systems yet constantly craving crashes into new ones.
I mow my grass every day for three whole days. But then the grass is always greener . . .
Call me tormented.
Call me immature.
Call me an INFJ.
Call me in-process.
Call me free.
Call me shackled.
Call me arrived.
Call me perpetually delayed.
Some days I feel like the luckiest guy. Some days I count my blessings. Others I can’t. I try, and I can’t.
Some days I fit into the system. Others I simply do not.
Some days you have a lot. Some a little. Others nothing.
Maybe tomorrow this grass will make sense again. The mowing, the hue. All of it.
