Comfort

Older.

Older. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Older. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I’m noticing myself getting older.

I keep seeing a metaphor of an old chipped tea pot.

Well loved, functional, stained full of memories, comforting.

There is no getting around time.

I’m not sure if I ever thought there was.

As I get older it becomes clearer that enjoying the spoils of lived life…well what other choice do I have?

To fight is futile. Isn’t it?

The risk of all this “acceptance” is that I subconsciously begin to accept other people’s ideas about what getting older means.

The world has a lot of ideas about all of this that hold no interest for me. But it is easy to start thinking in those frames when they are communicated so clearly and with such strength.

(I know I’m not ‘old’, I know I’m ‘in the middle’, I’m saying older…we all get older every day)

The remedy to all of this is being in this moment.

I am this being, right here, right now.

I can do and say and think the things I can do and say and think right now.

That’s it.

That’s all of it.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,346

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Beautiful but damaged.

Beautiful but damaged. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Beautiful but damaged. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I had a bad dream last night.

A house that was haunted, but beautiful, but damaged.

We wanted to live in it.

Reimagine it.

Reinvent.

Restore it.

I felt frightened that the house was too damaged to regenerate.

But moved into it anyway.

When I woke up, I could feel the house was me.

That the haunted, damaged past was part of the beauty.

I could see that ghosts of events that happened through me are not me.

A kind piano to play,

in the corner,

sings the darkness away.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,345

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Cold air.

Cold air. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Cold air. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

The air this morning has that ‘just blown off the snowy mountains’ feel to it.

And I haven’t even been outside yet.

Winter is here. It seemed to take a while arrive this year.

I couldn’t get myself out of bed this morning and yesterday I didn’t feel like exercising. It can be hard to get moving when it is this chilly.

I did, however, get going. I went for a run in the cold air yesterday and, of course, it was great.

A fresh blast to get the day moving.

Now I just have to get myself off the couch and out of the house.

No worries!

Love

Luke

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Day 1,289

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Some wood.

Some wood. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Some wood. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Some wood burns much hotter than other wood.

How would you ever know that?

Unless you had a wood fire that you relied on for your warmth.

The stringy bark kind of wood doesn’t burn that well.

Redgum is the ideal wood, apparently…but we don’t have that on our property.

We’ve got a wood called Redbox, and that's a keeper that one.

It’ll burn long and hot.

Which is very good for making a house full of visitors feel warm and cosy.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,279

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Gentle steps.

Gentle steps. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Gentle steps. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Looking at things from a different view.

Literally.

Sitting and writing today from a new spot, seeing a different view as I do something I do a lot.

It’s delicate, this thing, whatever it is, that I hold…or that I think I hold.

Fragile.

Being alive. Consciousness.

Ah, what a blessing and a curse.

Joy and hurt.

Gentle steps from here.

Gentle steps.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,268

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Chosen family.

Chosen family. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Chosen family. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I spoke to my beautiful friend Billie last night.

We’d been trying to connect for weeks, without success, and then finally the stars aligned.

It’s comforting to be back with someone who knows me so well. Who loves me so deeply.

Her little boy asked if “Luke was our family?” 

“Why, yes…he is”

We are a part of each other’s chosen family.

Which is an honour for me.

A real honour.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,267

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Some simple things.

Some simple things. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Some simple things. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Some simple things.

The condensation on the inside of the kitchen window.

Putting a log of wood into the fire.

The sound of the heater.

Thick socks on a cold morning.

A stack of clean dishes waiting to be put away.

This week’s food cooked in a day.

Doing the next thing on the list.

Writing my daily letter.

Some simple things.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,266

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White sauce.

White sauce. Drawing Luke Hockley.

White sauce. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

White sauce takes a surprisingly long time to make.

It all gets going reasonably quickly, but the thickening bit seems to go on forever.

Stirring and stirring and stirring…until my arm is sore.

Why bother?

Lasagne is why.

It is delicious and totally worth the effort of making white sauce.

Life’s a bit like that too.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,265

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At home.

At home. Drawing Luke Hockley.

At home. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

After being out in the country I love to arrive home and feel the generosity of my house.

It’s comfy, not perfect, but perfectly good enough for me to feel at home.

I’m at home in my home.

Which is a lovely thing.

Love

Luke 

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Day 1,264

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Sewing this, dyeing that.

Sewing this, dyeing that. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Sewing this, dyeing that. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I am getting great joy from making things.

Sewing this, dyeing that…

It’s the thing I have been longing to do for days and days and days.

Here it is.

Time to enjoy it.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,229

Show your support for Dear Self by becoming a monthly supporter of my work or by buying some stamp money. Your support means I can keep doing the things I do to make the world a better place.