My heart is the wick of a blown out candle. It once burned hot and cast warm light into the dark of night. Now it is cold and curled, bent over, burned, and covered with suet. A dark presence even in the light of day.
And yet, my heart exists. Is it waiting to host a flame again? Does it hold that memory? Dried as it is, just one spark would ignite and restore it.
Light the candle. Burn, baby. Burn.
turn and face the strange
I’m only two days into working The List, but I’m already aware of benefits. What I have learned, or perhaps remembered, is if my mind and body are not disciplined, then I tend to obsess over circumstances that I cannot affect or control. Since the pursuits and activities on The List are goals I wish to accomplish, then even small successes create happiness. It seems a small accomplishment, indeed, to have mowed the yard, but having done so makes me happy.
I know next to nothing about psychotherapy, but I think training the mind to focus on that which makes one happy is a big part of it.
I have learned (or, actually, remembered) that happiness is often a choice I make.
Blessed are those who mourn
for they shall be comforted