rising above

My world became very small this week, so small that I couldn’t see anything but the monitor that was in front of me 15 hours a day, three days in a row. Then the next day was a twelve-hour day, and that felt like a little vacation. That is the nature of my business, graphic design, everyone always needs everything yesterday. It is part of the deal. Deadlines loom. Rush jobs are accepted. I can never say no, there is always fear of losing income, or clients.

For the first few days (okay, all three), I did a lot of whining and complaining and moaning, literally, every time I stood up because I was so stiff from sitting in one position for so long. And yesterday wasn’t that much different, except that finally I felt my attitude shifting… ever so slightly, from grumpy and resentful to grateful and appreciative.

A couple of things happened along the way, things that made me realize how trifling my complaints were, how very tiny when placed within the frame of the big picture. I talked to a friend whose mother is dealing with cancer. Then I talked to another friend whose town, street, house, was flooding.

The other thing that happened was much smaller in scale, but it was still a revelation. I realized that I am not having enough fun, in fact, I am not having very much fun at all, and it is my own fault. I wrote about that in my last post, and I have been thinking about it ever since.

It’s so easy to lose perspective, so easy to lose sight of how precious life is, every day, every hour. And I work hard at not forgetting, I consciously try to live in the moment, but some days, I just plain forget. This whole week got away from me. I didn’t enjoy any of it, I sat there and did the work that had to be done and I pouted and I groused and there was a lot of woe is me floating around above my head.

What a waste of time, for me to think like that, act like that, feel like that. I am here. The sun is shining, or it is raining, or it is cold or hot or stormy, but I am here. I have food and shelter and family and friends and so many, many things to be grateful for.

I am also human, flawed and prone to tunnel vision. But there is a whole gigantic world out there, so much greater than the tiny space I see before me. A world filled with love and hope and friends and possibility. I couldn’t see that world this week — I was blinded by self-pity — but it was there.

Today, I am opening my eyes.

Embracing life, one crazy, crazy minute at a time.


Glad you’re feeling better… we love you

easy, easy to to feel sorry for one’s self, and sometimes okay, I think – sometimes necessary, I think. sometimes life is just yucky and if we don’t have the good sense to see that yuckiness and feel a bit put out by it, well, then, we just ain’t human beings. and luckily we pass through that moment or two and we look back and laugh at outselves. life IS crazy, crazy – aren’t we lucky?!! xoxo

soo love this kelly… i was just telling my husband that lately i am complaining way too much… that it must stop.. 🙂

xxo, kim
p.s. amazing image again… LOVE.

That’s all we really have is one crazy minute at a time. If you can see can see clearly!!!

EXCELLENT post! (Perfect for Happiness, by the way… )



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