More Slowly Slowly

Sometimes, all I want is to make a lot of money and put it away in a safe place. Maybe a shoebox under my bed. My bed is large. It’s very hard to get to the middle point underneath it unless you squeeze yourself and take a chance.

But other times, all I want is to live a life of meaning and of joy. Of pure, sheer bliss and appreciation for the sunshine and the fresh air on my skin and my three children sleeping in solemn repose in rooms around me every night.

 Read this. I couldn’t have said it better myself. I agree with every single word and the way it was delivered. And I think I am going to start focusing on these simple words. Immediately.

How do you find meaning? Give me a shout. I’d love to hear about it.


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