it’s an iterative process
like watching paint dry
two coats of primer
two coats of paint
iterations
regurgitations
lamentations
ululations
lather
rinse
repeat
repeat
repeat
repeat
keep doing different things
keep expecting the same results
keep doing different things
keep expecting different results
keep doing the same things
keep expecting different results
keep doing the same things
keep expecting the same results
open to outcome but
not attached to outcome
yeah right
you wish
as if
it’s all Hallmark Card
jibber jabber
East Bound in the bike lane one day. A bike lane I’ve ridden countless times before. So many times I subliminally know when the bumps are bumping, the cracks are cracking, I know what’s down there, because I’ve been there, done that. I post up out of the saddle and absorb the bumps right in time as they’re bumping. All muscle memory. No thought bandwidth used. No static at all. I’m pretty proud of my lizard brain. But just as I’m patting myself on the back the front wheel hits a chunk of wood, hits it hard, a chunk that’s not supposed to be there. I snap out of my stupor and the universe says, “don’t get too cocky bro, I’m the one telling you how it is”
ONE WAY
or another
Add Comment