what’s good for me

Focus on what’s right in front of me – no looking ahead or what-ifs, ands or buts.

Replace complaining with gratituding.

Keep moving. No lull, no lolling about, no lamenting.

Ponder can-dos over can’t dos. Wishes and want-tos will have their moment.

Relax my shoulders. Unfurrow my brow.

Turn my face to the sun, but remember even rain waters something within me.

Enjoy the exquisite fullness of this one moment.

Wonder about wonder.

Listen for the morning chorus of birds.

It’s quite possible, after all, each bird whistles a song of hope . . .

today’s hope


My stress brain tells me I have to do it all now. (I don’t.)

My stress brain tells me it’s impossible. (It isn’t.)

My stress brain tells me I can’t. (I can.)

My stress brain reminds me of past failures. (I’m looking forward.)

My stress brain says, “You probably shouldn’t.” (I will.)

My stress brain tells me I don’t have enough time. (I have plenty.)

My stress brain tells me I’m not enough. (I say, “I most certainly am!”)

My stress brain tells me it’s hope-less. (I am hope-full.)

action diary

More than ever these days, keeping myself organized is a daily process. There’s this. That. The other. Dates. Bills. Receipts. A to-do list. A calendar (or two.) And much as I love a clean desk, truth is there’s well-begun but half-done projects here and there, waiting for more time and opportunity.

So there’s often a desktop shuffle. And we all know — things get lost in the shuffle. Important things.

What I need – have needed – will need – is a system. And oh-the systems I’ve tried. So many systems, I’ve lost count. In all honesty, I reinvent wheels all the time. Or forget about the latest wheel I reconfigured in the time elapsed between its creation and the next time I needed to use it.

Sometimes I’d get all the paper completely organized and feel ever so self-satisfied.

Only to later forget what-all I did with any of it.

Maybe one system just blends into another, each indistinct from the last. Maybe it’s an aspect of aging. Or maybe my brain is more full of big ideas and less focused on small details.

Enter my latest system: an action diary.

Not especially detailed, my action diary is a collection of notes – reminders of what I did, when I did it, who said what, and where I put anything I’m likely to forget about, but will need in the future.

When did I call the cable company? Where did I file those receipts?

Simply put: an action diary is a record of my actions. A log of my to-dos — done.

Going forward, it’s the first place I’ll look whenever I’ve lost hope of finding that piece of paper, reset password, or whatever else I’ve forgotten between then and now.

I’m hopeful it works.