Live Deliciously

Sitting at my desk again and thankful that I have work to shape my hours.

On the scrolling platforms, everyone’s sharing their highlights from the last decade. A lot of these posts begin with “The last decade was full of transition, of highs and lows…” (hint: THEY ALL ARE). That’s time. It’s just transition — a pile of pearls falling through your fingers. 

Calendar-wise, the 1990s was my teens, the 2000s was my 20s, the 2010s was my 30s. It’s tidy the way it turned out — and helpful for recollecting, too. 

When I look back I don’t blame myself for anything I did in the 90s. Lil’ me did my best with what I had on offer — access to rugged wilderness, MTV and a high-octane hormone-flooded brain. 

My 20s and 30s were cool; I wasted too much time, though. I spent whole hours and days building barriers and spiraling away from my authentic self.  

Now, as I enter my fourth decade I’m fiercer and softer than ever. I don’t “give a shit” but I also cry when grizzly bears fight on the nature shows cuz I want them both to live and “be alright.” 

Today, I hold my self ruthlessly responsible for every second lady time drops in my supplicant palms. Not like I need to be busy all the time; I see it more from a value perspective. There are times when “doing” is the worst thing you can do. 

“WOULDST THOU WANT TO LIVE DELICIOUSLY?” Asks Black Phillip, tempting an innocent lass, in that movie The Witch.

Yes, yes, yes! That’s all I’m ever trying to do.