Living with a writer can be tough. In the creative cycle, my "Shiva" state requires A LOT of starring at the ceiling. My kids know it. "Don't talk to mom. She's in shiva." It's an active state of rest where my mind is working overtime. So my Shiva hit a major speed bump when my oldest offered up this piece of honesty. "Mom you look like you've given up on life." So I took an inventory of my little self: I was sporting sweats, no bra and a fedora. Given up on life? Yep, that's fair.
My mind is a landscape. It can be a vast wasteland or an intense jungle. I'm careful about what I put into it cause if it ain't lifting the gears, it is probably sinking commodities. When I need an idea, I find it useful to elevate...something. Make one corner of my life awesome. Enter the fedora!
Let's get one thing straight. If you own a fedora, you wear the fedora. The End.
There is an entire thriving genesis of thought in this one simple principle.
Does it make you smile? Does it feel like a cold-enema on a 115 degree day? Or like a back-straightening, upright tugging, stature increasing minuscule message of happiness to the world? Your posture says "ya, I got this" cause honey, you so got this.
Now back to Shiva. I've got so much to learn.