Self-awareness

Visiting myself daily.

Visiting myself daily. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Visiting myself daily. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Visiting myself daily.

A cup of tea.

A privilege.

Warm kindness.

Harsh reality.

Looking through a window, taking a breath.

Owning my bag of stuff.

Self-respect, discovery, uncertainty.

Messy.

A ritual made from…

A cup of tea

Visiting myself daily.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,347

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.

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

Show your support for Dear Self by becoming a monthly supporter of my work or by buying some stamp money. Your support

I long for New York and a Ben hug

I long for New York and a Ben hug. Drawing Luke Hockley.

I long for New York and a Ben hug. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,
I just spoke with my mate Ben, who lives in New York. It has been over a year since we spoke.

Our friendship is blessed with that comfortable ability to be at a distance without us becoming really distant.

Like all things it needs attention to keep the thread connected, it was time we spoke.

Technology has done so much damage, I know, but one of its most valuable attributes is its ability to bring the vibrancy of a New York soundscape at 7pm on a Friday into my Saturday morning  lounge room in Melbourne.

We’ve known each other since we were in our very early 20’s...We’ve reached the stage now where we are starting to notice the marks of time upon our lives. Both our physical and emotional worlds...the things to celebrate, the things to lament but also embrace.

Thinking about it now I long for New York and a Ben hug.

A barely known adventure of a city and the comfort of someone who doesn’t know the latest ‘drama’ in my life and so, therefore, knows me all the better.

Someone who has seen me ‘at it’ long enough to appreciate my small, complex, contradictory, but ever inching forwards, progress, failure and success. And a city that is the perfect back drop to long, meandering conversations about that adventure.

Randomly, many of my friends are travelling, or living, outside of Melbourne right now.

Unusually the space, this distance, helps me appreciate them more right now.

Normally this would be a moment of intense loneliness. 

Not so...

Perhaps this is a mark of some internal change, dare I say progress... 

Yes, let’s say it’s that.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,341

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.

Recovery.

Recovery. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Recovery. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Recovery.

Slow and grumpy.

Wanting to be somewhere I’m not.

Accepting where I am.

An odd pleasure in having to slow down.

Recovery.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,340

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.

Ouch.

Ouch. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Ouch. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

The other day a good friend of mine hurt their back at the gym. They’d called to talk to me about something else, a life question, a weighty one…but the back thing had just happened and we started with that.

I can’t help myself. Having spent so much time working through injuries (so I could keep working/dancing) and with a life long obsession about how movement works I dove right in.

“I reckon it’s good to go into Old Person mode. Treating yourself kindly, but not too delicately, robust old person mode. Move as much as you can, but no more, for the next 24-48 hours. Heat and cold? Everyone has different theories. This kind of injury in a back I reckon a bit of ice on the actual site, but really small amounts of time (3-5mins max), but keep everything else warm. The body is seizing up to protect itself. Moving in a limited range as much as you can (essentially don’t “test” the injury, to see if it is still their) keeps it safe so you can warm everything else up to stop the seizing…Don’t worry the thing, trust that it will heal, don’t pull on the knot by telling a story to yourself that makes things tighten…”

Yep. Pure advice. Possibly a little unsolicited…though gratefully received.

As our conversation progressed onto my buddies ‘life questions’ it became clear how the things, the incident in the gym, my proposal for how to respond, the life questions and the possible response to those all kind of lined up.

So curious.

The very good news is my friend woke up the next day feeling pretty good. Maybe our chat, or something else helped? Or just the ongoing mystery of the human body in action? Who knows?

Today, at the gym, I lifted a heavy thing and hurt my back.

Ha!

So, it’s time for me to take some of my own advice.

I do wonder, though, is this injury a metaphor somehow for what’s going on in my life? Is there something for me to discovery here about how I might approach the challenges and opportunities I face?

I wonder.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,339

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.

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

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Day 1,338

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.

Snuggle, cuddle, cold, grey, drab of a day.

Snuggle, cuddle, cold, grey, drab of a day. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Snuggle, cuddle, cold, grey, drab of a day. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

It’s a snuggle, cuddle, cold, grey, drab of a day.

Couch and books and movies and sewing and snoozing.

It’s the kind of a day where it is easy for me to get an attitude problem.

To think I don’t enjoy my life.

Which is pretty funny.

Because I love my life.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,337

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.

The knowing

The knowing. Drawing Luke Hockley.

The knowing. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Laying on my back

My legs up the wall

Warm blankets wrapped around me

I’ve just been exercising, hard.

I’m tired, relieved even.

A window of ease and kindness opens

My back spreading in cooperation with gravity

My legs heavy and heavy and heavy.

My experience of the world expands

I’m bathed in knowing

Attentive

Free from internal discussion about that moment or the moment coming

I’m here. Knowing that, without using words to name it.

Here.

As quickly as it arrived, the open window shuts.

I think some words.

Distracted.

I don’t fully recover the knowing, equally, the knowing doesn’t really leave me.

That moment refills me.

An energy reboot.

That holds me for much longer than I would imagine it could.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,334

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.

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

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Day 1,332

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.

The infinite tight rope.

The infinite tight rope. Drawing Luke Hockley.

The infinite tight rope. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I’m holding a thread in one hand that connects to my future (as yet unwritten) and another that stretches throughout my past in the other.

These two threads are connected to each other. They are one single thread that runs from my front hand to beneath my feet to my back hand.

The infinite tight rope that I am confidently but carefully walking along.

The game, if it can be called a game, is to hold each of the threads lightly and firmly but not be drawn too far into the thread of the future nor of the past.

The game, as it is, is to enjoy each step on the tight rope, knowing that these steps are possible because of the existence of this thread, without being pulled off the tight rope by my obsession with the impossible tasks of solving the past or dreaming the future.

The game is to be right here.

In this step.

Now.

Love

Luke.

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Day 1,331

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.