The other day was graduation day. I graduated from thirty days of juicing. Proper. I’d started building this habit about a month ago, using a different approach than normal. Instead of forcing change onto myself, too much of it at once usually, I took a more incremental, more gentle approach. And it worked.
Do you watch the credits once the movie has ended? It’s an old art, an old-fashioned thing to do. I kind of like it. It allows me to feel the aftermath of what I have just watched and felt. And sometimes, rarely, the credits are more than just credits. They are little pearls.
For a very long time I used to be preoccupied with my past. I wondered a lot about why certain things, family stuff mostly, had happened to me. Why me? Now it’s different. Now I’m telling myself stories about my future, about what I want it to look like. Feels better. Yet I am still lacking something: The ability to find lasting joy in the present moment.
I went to a lecture yesterday on the wrongness of today’s mainstream way of life. I’m not a big fan of labeling things as right or wrong, but I was attracted enough by the underlying message that we could divert from the norm. In the end the talk turned out to be somewhat disappointing. There were some interesting ideas but too much politician bashing for my liking. I left with the sense that the most important thing remained unsaid: That things CAN change. If only we start with ourselves.
I am in a bit of a writing frenzy, as you may have noticed. Usually, it’s not unusual for me to not post anything in a few months. Recently, however, I have been itching to write, to get things off my chest, or just think out aloud. Today I discovered a quote, a really beautiful one, that captured the essence of what I felt I wanted to write about: The mysterious world of animals. And how humans tend to perceive them. Wrongly perhaps.