Self-discovery

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

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Escape.

Escape. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Escape. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Escape.

From my cliched writing.

Words that have been dribbled so many times.

By me.

By everyone.

Escape.

Myself and my view of things.

The impossible escape.

Love

Luke

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

Day 1,344

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.

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

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.

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

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 time

Holding time. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Holding time. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Every day I hold time.

My fingers tips pressed together holding a gentle, warm ball of time in the space between. Long and slow time.

A fire along my arms and neck and eyes and rapidly typing finger tips. Impatient and rapidly evaporating time.

A single hand, kind, tea cup circle of time.

Twenty minutes of anti-gravity time slowly falling from the ceiling down into my back. A broad surface of spreading time.

Leg pumping, moving through space, aerobic time.

Feet, hands, back, arms, belly, legs, head, full body. Time making sound.

Stitching time, patiently.

All of me dancing time.

My fingers tips pressed together holding a gentle, warm ball of time in the space between. Long and slow time.

Every day I hold time.

Love

Luke

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

Day 1,333

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.

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

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.

The shape of friendship

The shape of friendship. Drawing Luke Hockley.

The shape of friendship. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I think I may have inadvertently become an expert in friendship.

Or at least developed a more complex understanding of it.

Or…perhaps it’s that I’m starting to change my belief that I am inept at friendship.

A few years ago, I identified that I felt overwhelmed, out of my depth, with making and maintaining friendships. Since then I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about friendship. During all that I have realised I was always looking at things as if I was particularly bad at friendships, unlike everyone else who are really good at them.

For some unknown reason I’ve looked up and suddenly noticed that this isn’t true. Most people are swimming around trying to understand what this whole friendship thing is all about.

I think the shape of any given friendship is always changing.

They are continuously unexpected.

Friendships flourish.

And they become stuck.

Friendships burst into joy.

Friendships can be a great joy or a total heart break.

And, sometimes, friendships end.

Ouch.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,318

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.

It’s complex being a human.

It’s complex being a human. Drawing Luke Hockley.

It’s complex being a human. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

It’s complex.

Being a human.

Managing the wildly contradictory but simultaneously accurate states of being the centre of my own world and of being a small insignificant atom in the broader universe.

I am contradictions.

Lots of them.

Often times I don’t know what to do with that.

Being a human.

It’s complex.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,317

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.

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

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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.