Cold feet

I’m not sure about this.

I’m having second thoughts.

I’m thinking of chucking it in and starting something new.

I have cold feet.

Again.

I’ve been here so many times before.

Why is it that every time I start to get into something, I pull back?

Why is it that just when I might be about to accomplish something, I give it away?

Why do I want to stop now?

Is it because the novelty is gone?

Is it because it’s starting to get difficult?

Is it because I’m overwhelmed by the thought of doing this long-term?

Am I scared?

Of what? Failure? Success? Change?

Can’t I just take it as it comes?

Can’t I just keep this in the present and let the future come to me?

Can’t I just enjoy the journey and forget about the destination?

What destination? The grave? Screw that.

☀☀☀

I’m on a plane.

On a return flight from my hometown.

With a pen and notepad.

Writing.

In the moment.

And I feel great.

Because in a world full of distractions, here I am in a place that conveniently cuts them off.

A place where I can shut out the world.

A place where I can focus.

A place where the words can come to me.

And as the page fills, I feel a spark.

I feel the fire coming back.

The same fire I felt back at the beginning.

The sunshine.

And I feel warm.

I feel warm in my heart.

In my chest.

In my mind.

In my arms.

In my legs.

In my feet.

☀☀☀

I’m back in Wellington.

Off the plane.

Back to earth.

Back into the noise.

Can I keep the fire going?

Can I find the moment amid the distractions?

Can I find the time? The space? The energy?

It seems so simple when I’m there.

Just me and the notebook.

Just me and the weights machine.

Just me and the spreadsheet.

In the moment.

But of course it’s simple when I’m there. The question is, can I get there?

Can I get there often enough to keep the fire burning?

Can I get there often enough to keep the sun shining?

Or will my feet freeze once again?

For the record, the water is 12°C/53°F. Brrr!

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