Smoke 'em if you got 'em
But only if you got ‘em. No going out to buy more.
I’ve wandered away from the gift idea in these blogs not because I haven’t been buying myself stuff—I’m getting a dress delivered today, and I did just order new flip-flops and, if you must know, a bra. I haven’t written about gifts in these blogs for a while because I don’t need anything new to help me ambush my fear and wield my ferocious dream.
I have everything I need—I just need to use it.
I have a wonderful office in the basement. It’s not a real room, but it’s demarcated by bookshelves and a faux fireplace mantel and has amazing light for a basement. I’ve had this room of my own for probably four years I use it all the time—like, All. The. Time.
Yesterday, I decided my office needed a new desk. I spent a good part of my sacred morning time moving my current desk around and measuring out the dimensions for a new one. It took hours of rearranging and considering what I would need to get rid of to make a new desk fit before I realized that the desk I have is exactly perfect.
Actually, the office was designed around the size of the desk. And it is just the right size for me to reorient when I want to—I can face it toward the window, at an angle, or perpendicular to the wall. I love my desk.
So why am I trying to get a new one?
Because I can never seem to accept that I already have everything I need.
Because telling myself that I am prepared to start means I have to start.
Because ambushing fear and having a ferocious dream is scary.
No matter how I move my desk, the center working area stays under the pendant lamp I hung up years ago. No matter how I spin it, the work remains centered in my space.
Even when I try to rearrange my work, it stays centered on the light.
In other words, regardless of the gifts I give myself to enhance or escape my work, it is always there, in the middle of who I am and where I am, shining.
That’s afterglow worthy of a smoke.
