Here again

But for how much longer...will I be doing my thing?

It remains an open question.

I'm lucky of course — blessed you could say. 

I mean, here I am with time enough to write the odd blog and with the benefit of a full-time job. What could be better?

Then again, much like that felt sense I've experienced all my life, I know that there's an unlived part of me waiting to find its place in the world. I don't just mean a better job ("Hell, no!"), or become an artist or anything in particular. No, I mean to say that there's a road less travelled that's waiting for me somewhere out in the future — assuming I make it of course.

Don't worry, it's not that I'm lost in the reverie of my new life or I constantly daydream but there remains this insatiable draw not to let the habit of today dictate what's to come. 

Does this mean I'm hopeful? That's not really my thing — i.e. trafficking in hope. There's only this day and if lived fully (as if we've got a choice) that's more than enough for me. What I am is someone who's not afraid of letting go, of free-floating in my anxious self and having no plan. Now (of course) when set against all the productivity gurus and the regnant order of the day that behoves we must have everything nailed down, my non-expectant plans look chortle worthy, but I don't care. Honest, Guv. I'm at that stage in life where I really don't care one iota what others think about my plans or the like. In any event, it will be what it will be and there's no one I need contact for permission. Does that sound selfish? A tad I suppose but in the end, do we make these plans or are they made for us? 

Anyhow, it's Monday. Time to take Alfie out for a walk. And then I'll get suited and booted for another day of Zoom/Teams madness until it's time to call time whereupon I'll indulge myself with a second walk before settling in for the night with a good book and whatever else tickles my increasingly titrated fancy.

Take care, and have a good one.

Much love,

Julian