Self-acceptance

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

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Day 1,348

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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

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

Day 1,345

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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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After the holidays.

After the holidays. Drawing Luke Hockley.

After the holidays. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I used to love going back to school after the holidays were over.

I think I got bored during my time off.

Under challenged, maybe.

I like thinking about things. Testing myself. Making stuff.

Being occupied with things I find interesting.

School was a pretty good structure to get me to do all that.

I’ve just noticed that I feel a little similar about getting back from this holiday.

I’m ready to do stuff.

To sink my teeth into things.

To get occupied!

Ask me how all that is going in a week’s time!

Love

Luke

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

Day 1,330

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That’s the deal.

That’s the deal. Drawing Luke Hockley.

That’s the deal. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Today it is hard for me to accept that I have set the bar so low for writing this daily letter.

I feel like it has been quite a few days of average writing. I’ve been on holidays and it can be hard to keep the rhythm up during these times.

I know that my agreement with myself is just to keep the metronome swinging…so that when my mojo comes back around the habit of writing is here ready to pick up the momentum and run.

But gosh it is hard for my ego to accept that I will write and publish things that may not be as interesting/entertaining/insightful as I might like!

Oh well.

That’s the deal.

And I really do enjoy the pay off.

Love

Luke

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

Day 1,329

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Impatient

Impatient. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Impatient. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I can be so impatient with things.

Not always, not in every situation, but when my impatience strikes it is really quite distinct.

Not one of my more endearing character traits.

Love

Luke

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

Day 1,328

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The rhythms of my life.

The rhythms of my life. Drawing Luke Hockley.

The rhythms of my life. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Holidays are a kind of limbo to me.

A partial suspension of things.

Some things are great to have a break from…but some things I don’t need to take a break from.

Actually, as much as I love a holiday…I don’t ‘need a break’ the way I hear other people talk about ‘needing a break’.

I like holidays because I get some deep time with people that I care a lot about…but I also miss a lot of my day to day life.

I enjoy the rhythms of my life.

That’s a lovely thing to realise.

Love

Luke

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

Day 1,327

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I pretend.

I pretend. Drawing Luke Hockley.

I pretend. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I pretend that I have got myself to a point where I don’t care what other people think about me.

I do a reasonably good job of convincing myself of this.

Perhaps, at times, it is even true.

But I do care.

More often than I like to admit.

I really do care.

Damn it.

Love

Luke

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

Day 1,326

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I can only live today.

I can only live today. Drawing Luke Hockley.

I can only live today. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Looking forwards there is so much to worry about.

What’s going to happen?

How will things work out?

Will things work out?

I’m afraid of ending up alone.

There’s nothing I can do about tomorrow.

Today, I’m not alone.

I can only live today.

Tomorrow is for tomorrow.

Love

Luke

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

Day 1,320

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.