One morning, sitting up in bed, blue headphones on, I listened to a meditation on self-love. Roxie was in her fuzzy round bed on the floor, waiting for the blue headphones to come off.

The meditation was a series of affirmations, the speaker’s voice soothing and strong. After she made each statement, I repeated it, as directed.

When she said, “I take good care of myself,” the words wouldn’t come out. I knew it wasn’t true.

Forcing myself to say it, I spoke over whatever affirmation came next. Later, while walking Roxie in the low morning light, sunlight bouncing off the river, I wondered, “If I don’t take good care of myself, what do I do?”

“I use myself.”

The answer came so fast, I knew it was true.

Then I thought about my life after retirement from the corporate world, having left one overlord only to put another—of my own making—in its place.

If I didn’t need to prove myself to earn worth, if I didn’t need to count the incoming dollars, or students, or subscribers, or reviews to earn the right for space on the planet, what would I do? Would I still write? Teach?

Yes, and yes.

But I would—will—do what I do because I love it. No other reason. No other expectation.

Just a full-hand life, lived from love.

Chewing the Cud of Good

Thankful for time.