The Measure of Success

barcelona
Barcelona with my niece Saskia

‘Are you a parking garage?’ the voice said on the phone. When I said ‘No!’, he sounded very disappointed.   How I laughed at the silly surreal-ness of it afterwards.  It was just the break I need in an otherwise colorless day.

After three weeks away, it is easy to come home and start tidying up, putting everything in order and getting ready for work with a missionary zeal not unlike someone trying to hack their way through heavy undergrowth. I was busy chop, chop, chopping at my epic ‘to do’ list when the phone rang. And this unexpected moment of mirth brought me back to my senses.

How is it after all I’ve learned these past 30 months I still lapse into this old pattern. Am I still measuring the success of my days by how much I get done, how much I chop off my to do list rather than by the far more precious  measure of how much joy I have experienced and how much love I feel each day.

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5 thoughts on “The Measure of Success

  1. Lucie,

    Sometimes it’s hard to appreciate the joy of settling back in. Look up David Ireland and 500 Capp Street. I look forward to hearing about your time with family in Espana!

    xojamie

    Like

  2. I think your feelings and thoughts are absolutely normal because we are all human. As human beings we are always drawn to the need to perform, to follow ‘to do lists”, to be active in this world; we are not permanently able to rest in the joy of pure being. xoxo

    Like

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