The need for consistency

Consistency - Target
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Sure enough, consistency is key to my organization. I have been wanting consistency in my life always, and at the same time, it faces the constant flow of change.

Change is the sign of life.

Art is another form of our world that emanates from creativity. It produces beauty. And then it stays. It does not change once it is produced. It becomes something different, but it does not change after it is produced. It will change others in the sense that art moves you. But it does not change itself after it has been created.

I struggle between two poles. My need for consistency. My aspiration for art.

When I write I can forget about everything in the process. I forget about the others. I forget about my pain. I forget about my worries. I forget about the rules and the necessities. I just create a flow and I navigate it.

Then I have to end the journey at some point because one cannot endlessly float on their back staring at the sky and enjoying the ride, and I have to go back to the bare necessities.

And I go back to my lists, and they feel so dull.

It is like having taken a wonderful vacation and returning to the old factory in a grey and smokey city in the last century. I drag my feet. I want to remember the journey. I am not yet ready to go back to work. The alarm clock screams at me. Time has passed. I am late and have missed my deadlines. Now it is rush hour.

Between dull and stress, my heart always hesitates.

Fifteen minutes #Trust30

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#Trust30 is an online initiative and 30-day writing challenge that encourages you to look within and trust yourself. Use this as an opportunity to reflect on your now, and to create direction for your future. 30 prompts from inspiring thought-leaders will guide you on your writing journey. Sign up on this page to receive the prompts by email. 

You just discovered you have fifteen minutes to live. 1. Set a timer for fifteen minutes.
2. Write the story that has to be written.

Fifteen minutes. I have fifteen minutes. My heart is racing like mad. I feel so warm inside. My legs refuse to take me where I should go to escape, and I am staring at that clock that is counting minutes and seconds down. Already fourteen left.

They called and told me the angel was coming to pick me up, for the big trip, you know, the one you never come back from. I wasn’t expecting such a bad news, but I know when the door opens, it’s going to be over for me. What should I do?

I am calm. Just very hot inside. And my mind is racing. Who should I tell? who needs to hear the bad news before it has actually happened? Did I dry the laundry? What about the garbage? Tomorrow is pick-up day: it feels a little ridiculous to waste five entire minutes to run to the dumpster doesn’t it?

I didn’t tell my sons to clean up the living-room, they’ll probably know what to do, when they find out that everyone will come home to sit shivah with them. I don’t think they will remember that I had told them the room should always be ready for the unexpected, now they will think about what I had told them countless times, it will make sense. Shh… these are stupid thoughts, only ten minutes left, maybe I’d better tweet my friends or update my facebook status after all. But, hey? what to say, it sounds a little alarming.

I should rather make sure my passwords are accessible, in case I can’t even finish this post: it would then be silly that I had spent the last fifteen minutes of my life writing my best piece ever and that it never gets published.

I see some weeds around the rose bushes, my mother is certainly going to do something about it, I don’t need to go out and take them away, that’s a nice thoughtful tribute, and that will make her smile that I thought of her right now.

I have no outstanding bill. I could give the garage a call to let them know I will be a no-show tomorrow? Who cares? Never mind, they will find out. Fifteen minutes is not a lot. I should have sorted the papers when it was time, I will write a note to apologize for the mess, and all the stuff I kept and liked keeping that will make no sense to anyone. I didn’t mean to burden you with all this clutter. I promise that if I had been given a second chance, let’s say a couple of weeks, well, yes, I would have gone through it. Well, maybe not, I am sure I would have found other things to do to procrastinate again.

Three minutes left, that is just enough I suppose: now, I should calm down a little. I don’t want to look panicked. I want to look pretty and smiling, life is the most beautiful thing ever, it would reflect badly if I had been showing up like my last three minutes of them, I was ugly, tense and afraid. Here, let’s work on breathing deeply, for a minute. That’s all that’s left as a matter of fact.

A deep breath, and a big smile. Oh and let’s write it here too: love to all of you.