Time

Fix the damn thing.

Dear Self,

Technology is totally amazing until it is totally shite.

Thing is, it has seduced me, you know.

It’s taken years…but inch by inch I have given over my autonomy to it.

So now, if it suddenly fails me, without explanation warning…well I’m totally stuffed.

And everything is set up now, so you buy it and pay every month for it…and there is literally no one on the other side of that transaction to help you sort out what the hell just happened.

No one.

At all.

How did we get here?

Shouldn’t someone be there to fix the damn thing when it stops working?

I mean, please!

Low level grumble about small, but significant inconvenience, over.

Love

Luke

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

Day 1,352

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.

An anxious butterfly.

Dear Self,

There is an anxious, butterfly pressure on my solar plexus.

Choices? Options? Pressure?

Busyness? Change?

What is it I wonder?

Too much rich food?

Not enough water?

Trying to solve other people’s problems?

Yes. Probably.

All of that.

Yes. Ok.

Ok.

It will be ok.

Love

Luke

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

Day 1,350

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

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.

Allowed to…

Allowed to. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Allowed to. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Today I am a sleeping bear.

Tired heavy contented eyes.

Walking between time.

From object to object.

Allowed to do very, very little.

Enjoying a momentary breath in and out.

Love

Luke

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

Day 1,335

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.