crawling up Everest, a millimeter at a time
arms and legs frozen
but heart and mind molten
just keep growing

stuckness goes as flowing comes
patience waits to fly into presence
exhilaration rushes to meet them
knowing there's only a while

chip away chip away chip away
at fear
break through, and dive off the edge
fall to your birth

Old dog, new trick.
Am i? is this?

Irreverence in the sacred, the depth in a light heart.
Commit to choices, but without attachment. Continuously recalibrate, never completely on course, constantly correcting in order to progress. Its okay and honorable to abandon what might have once been a dedicated path. Know when your direction has become hubristic. Switch and no regrets.
Love and expand.

Announcement:
Idle Eyes is officially switching to Verdana permanently, for now.

Just show up? Alright, this is me, just showing up. Phoning it in. In the past 2 days of not blogging, there have been many moments of creative brilliance, but i didn't have a recording device catching all the gold i was spewing. Or i felt too unmotivated, distracted, scared, and/or busy. So i come and do what i set out to do, no matter how seemingly pretentious, hyper-introspective, or passionless.
Here are some words, chosen creatively. To an extent.

Produce results, quick!
Here I am, waiting for the magic to happen.
Is it The Point if i am just phoning it in?
Here i am, involving myself in doubt, getting stuck on shoulds and supposed-tos.

Just as in meditation, it is crucial to not involve one's self in those kinds of questions. It does not have to be anything at all, it does not have to make sense. No expectations, no goals. Just show up and create.

"Spend the spark of iron on stone."
This line of Rumi came to mind, soon after I decided to post a word a day at the minimum. It has been a long time since I got fed up and inspired and put the weight of some New Regimen onto my shoulders, taunting my self-acceptance, triggering my well-honed Doubt -- yet, once again, I am excited, relieved, and empowered; rooting for my Ego, flipping the bird to my Superego, and trusting the creative wellspring of my Id.
At at a bare minimum of one word per day, how can i fail? I can easily shave a couple minutes off my shameful daily gorging of internet. The idea originally was a poem a day. This is not the first time i have tried something like this. Since my early twenties I've started journaling several times, only to sputter out, most times not even making it to day 2. I even started this blog a couple years ago, in a similar high of elusive, determined self-help. So i decided to do it on my blog, even if i write it down some days, or if i am away from a computer for a few days -- i'll post the handwrittens the next time i'm at a computer.
The point to not lose sight of is that it is not about the internet, it is not about being read by anyone else. The point is to show up -- to book time to be creative. A word, a phrase, a line, a quatrain, a song, a poem, a short story. Just write something down. Or even draw (and scan it in).
To regularly knock on the door of my psyche.
"This being human is a guest house, every morning a new arrival...Entertain and welcome them all!"
~Rumi