Focus

Arrival.

Arrival. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Arrival. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Scatter, scatter.

I ping pong my thoughts from rapid place to rapid place.

Solving small parts of many different problems in quick succession.

Never arriving, never landing, never seeing something through to the.

End.

I crave that long slow time.

I crave that place I get to where I am breathing into this thing I am doing.

I crave arrival.

Where does that live?

It lives in how I approach the thing I am doing.

It lives with me.

Love

Luke

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Day 1,348

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I am a weary river.

I am a weary river. Drawing Luke Hockley.

I am a weary river. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I am a weary river.

Travelling to the sea.

Pulled skyward with a busy mind.

Unearthed.

Unanchored.

Unmoored.

A deep breath finds my toes in the silt sand of the river.

My feet, legs, pelvis, torso, body arrives.

The weight of distraction flows around me.

Arrived.

Here.

Love

Luke.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Day 1,343

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Why do everything else?

Why do everything else? Drawing Luke Hockley.

Why do everything else? Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I spent the day sewing.

Surprisingly difficult to get myself to this place.

Why?

Why do I do everything else before I do the thing that I really want to do.

Excuse making!

Several times today I found myself talking myself out of doing some other ‘important’ task so that I could get back to sewing.

I’m finding my ability to focus on one thing a little challenged at the moment. The real peace comes when I’m just in the thing I’m doing.

That takes practice.

So, I’ll practice.

Love

Luke

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Day 1,342

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A tired heavy shoe.

A tired heavy shoe. Drawing Luke Hockley.

A tired heavy shoe. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

This morning I am tired like a heavy shoe.

Everything has just a bit more drag on it than need be.

Which makes each step a bit harder than it has to be.

Muddy, sluggish, walking.

The only way through this stuff, in my experience, is to move.

Straight through the middle of it all.

Just keep moving.

Love

Luke

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Day 1,338

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The dread worm.

The dread worm. Drawing Luke Hockley.

The dread worm. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I am holding in my left hand, which is thrust deeply into my left pocket, a sense of something. Weighty and foreboding.

I find that I can, occasionally, open my palm and take my hand out of my pocket and do what needs to be done. But this sense of heaviness remains stagnant in my pocket, nonetheless.

Randomly, more often, I take my hand out of my pocket and look at it. I sense the gross, dull life form squirming inside my clutched fingers. But I don’t seem to be able to will myself to unfurl my fingers and look at it directly.

Not yet.

Generally, it appears about 24 hours before I am able to look at it.

And so, for a day or so, I live with it.

For about a day, or a bit longer, or a bit shorter depending on the circumstances.

Uncomfortable and awkward and uncertain and icky.

When the time has passed, I take my hand from my pocket and stare for a moment at my fingers and then, like a dive into cold water, open them and place the thing on the table in front of me.

A grey, fleshy, smooth skinned worm squirms upon the table.

I can still feel the dread that it emanates seep into my now empty palm, into my pocket, through my bowels and up into my chest and back of throat.

It’s the dread worm.

And I don’t like it.

It wriggles benignly on the table and I look at. Eventually I do what I know needs to be done and I reach out and touch it.

In what is always a surprise, which means it should never be one, I’m taken aback by its response.

This time the surface where I touched it changes from its morbid grey into a late day sunlight orange.

As I continue to touch and get to know it a little better it starts to morph and change shape. It becomes playful. Joyful.

This transformation is rapid.

And accelerates, almost without me noticing.

Soon it has transfigured itself into an entirely different animal.

A new one every time.

In this process there are awkward moments, painful ones even, but also funny and light hearted and inspiring ones.

And soon enough it has run off and become a thing in the world that has little to do with me anymore.

Mostly it’s a good experience, mostly.

And then I wonder, as I watch it run away, I wonder…why don’t I remember this feeling of lightness and relief when the worm first appears clutched inside my hand thrust into my pocket?

How come I can only feel the dread at that moment?

What I would like is to be able to feel the dread worm appear and know, inside my bones, that this too will turn out ok, even if some bits of the experience are less than ideal, in the end I’ll probably have a reasonably good time.

That.

Next time.

I’ll work on that.

Love

Luke

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Day 1,332

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Slow down.

Slow down. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Slow down. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Slow down.

No, slower than that.

No, even slower than that.

No. Really.

Slow. Down.

Really.

Actually.

Just.

Slow.

Down.

Love

Luke

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Day 1,322

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.

Other people’s stuff.

Other people’s stuff. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Other people’s stuff. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I so easily look at other people’s stuff and know what they should do.

I can see their insecurities so clearly. Can see how they are undermining their own goals. Can see the logical, obvious, pathway through for them.

If they could just get over themselves everything would be fine.

Funny how I can’t seem to do all that for myself.

If I could just get over myself…

Love

Luke

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Day 1,321

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Driving for hours.

Driving for hours. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Driving for hours. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Does driving 1,000 kilometres change things?

I suppose it does.

Driving for hours on end gives me time to think and think and think…with-out really thinking, if you know what I mean.

I’ll let all the things move into the background.

And see what I come up with.

Love

Luke

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Day 1,319

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.

Holding onto the thread of myself.

Holding onto the thread of myself. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Holding onto the thread of myself. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

It is hardest to keep up this daily writing habit during the holidays.

All the edges fray.

I stop shaving.

I get to bed late.

I don’t wake at 6 am.

I don’t get out of bed and sit down and write.

The day becomes a deconstructed series of events that have fewer edges than normal…and I forget.

Why not just stop writing for the holidays?

I’ve thought about that.

I keep writing because it means through periods of rest and regeneration I keep a hold of the thread of myself.

Which I find valuable.

And comforting.

Love

Luke

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Day 1,316

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Mean and funny v’s good and generous.

Mean and funny v’s good and generous. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Mean and funny v’s good and generous. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I have a reasonably quick wit.

When I was younger it would get me into a bit of trouble at times.

Because, for whatever reason, the ‘immediately funny’ view of a situation can often be the mean view of the situation.

So, I’ve learnt to forgo the laugh in order to remain true to my belief that seeing the good, the possible…the generous view of a situation is the kinder, more productive and more appropriate approach to just about everything.

Occasionally I fail at this. Mean and funny out competes good and generous.

Damn it.

I’m sorry about that. I really am.

Love

Luke

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Day 1,310

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.