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When the Ideal Becomes Reality

rsz lr post5picI am in a nose-to-the-grindstone phase of life right now. You know, one of those periods where the idea of ‘Live Riveted’ conjures up an image of me happily moving my hands over my computer keyboard, laser focused on words becoming sentences and sentences becoming paragraphs and paragraphs becoming pages and pages becoming chapters.

It’s heady to be going at this pace on a book project, but blessedly also temporary. Motivated to complete a mission? Yes. Inspired to work this steadfastly all the time? No. Heck to the no.

I’m not one to subscribe to the notion that constant hard work is the only path to honorable. That feels more like brainwash from people who don’t enjoy life, don’t think they have options or don’t feel compelled to utilize the gifts they’ve been given. That philosophy usually comes with a whole lot of ‘shoulds.’

I see it differently. In the world of me, to work at a crazy clip for a while means turning away social invitations, doing substantially less leisurely reading, putting off cleaning out closets as a new season barges in, and living in some tunnel-vision alternate universe of my own making. I like it for a finite period, but then a little life needs to come back in and lift me out of my hazy, disciplined reverie.

I push back from the desk and extricate myself from the studiousness. Now I’m in the possibility zone.

Take me to a museum so I can stare at some master’s magic or for a drive where all I can see are leaves in golds and oranges and reds. Let’s stroll some shops where I can be riveted to buying gourmet granola, a new lipstick, red lingerie. Deposit me in a sweet café with a dear friend and no time constraints so we can talk until we feel all caught up on every darned thing. Put me on my couch with my iPad, researching the next trip I’m going to book, and make it a doozy.

Place me in a classroom or lecture hall where I learn something just for the sake of learning. Ask me to take four random ingredients in my refrigerator and make them into a delicious meal. Give me an extra 20 minutes at the gym so I can enjoy the solitude of an empty aerobics room and dance and stretch to whatever hot tune is pumping through my ear buds.

Now I’m inspired all over again. Refueled. Buzzing with ideas. Bubbling with energy.

The idea, of course, is to go back to the grindstone phase to chronicle it all and then start the cycle all over again.

I live riveted to this rhythm, my dream rhythm … well, actually, my reality rhythm. The happy truth is I live riveted to this life I envisioned and then created. 

Where work is grand and all mixed in with the rest of it, one thing feeding off the next, making it all possible.

Tags: A Riveted Life