Betty White was in my dreams last night.
I was helping her get to the doctor’s office, which then turned into a dental office. And the man slotted to clean her teeth wore a face mask braided into his beard hairs.
I’ve come to realize how much I enjoy routine. It’s boring and predictable, but satisfies my deep desire to see progress over time. And progress doesn’t come overnight, it’s like snow falling from the sky. Just tiny individual flecks of dirt with a moisture barrier that accumulate into something measurable by the eye and the tape measure.
But progress isn’t linear, and there’s a normal ebb and flow as you get better or worse in one area you get better or worse in another to balance it all out. The trouble is in seeing where the improvement is happening since its often obscured by distractions.
I think periods of time spent alone is essential for that reason.
Time alone and away from outside distractions. Turn off the television, the computer, your phone, decline the social invites.
The hardest time alone is in the beginning. When you can hear yourself and the thoughts floating through your mind that make you uncomfortable. The time before you understand the thoughts in your head aren’t YOU as a person. The time before you learn to observe your thoughts instead of being controlled by them.
I don’t like drinking alcohol because it turns my thoughts off. It’s just radio-silence upstairs for days after I drink any amount. I like the quiet, but I like the quiet so I can hear my mind. Others drink intending to silence their mind.
I always liked what Betty White represented; life. Full, vibrant life.
