I woke up early and walked around the neighborhood for 45 minutes as the darkness gave way to a deep blue dawn.
Feels good.
Most of the walk was spent in rehearsal. Me, rehearsing in my head, a mythical conversation with people I will never meet.
Feels bad.
The conversation is about me telling the people I am talking why they are so wrong. And I’m telling them so in the most self-aggrandizing way possible. But with humility!
There is always an audience for this mythical conversation, and they are listening eagerly to every word I say. Maybe I’m on stage. Maybe it’s TV. I don’t know. But there is always an adoring audience.
I got home and cracked Meditations open, for my daily reading.
When you wake up in the morning, tell yourself: The people I deal with today will be meddling, ungrateful, arrogant, dishonest, jealous, and surly. They are like this because they can’t tell good from evil. But I have seen the beauty of good, and the ugliness of evil, and have recognized that the wrongdoer has a nature related to my own—not of the same blood or birth, but the same mind, and possessing a share of the divine. And so none of them can hurt me.
Meditations 2.1.
Time for me to tell my brain to STFU. “We are always living in rehearsal,” Bob would say. That’s me.
Live in the present. Don’t rehearse for a future that will never come. Don’t dwell on thoughts of events that will never return.
A cool, damp, quiet dawn. No one is out. Peacocks and crows are causing a ruckus, as they should: it’s their appointed task.
Time for me to do what God intends for me.