Smack me twice, shame on me, as the saying goes. Or something like that. No one likes getting smacked in the face, regardless of what it is, but twice in 20 minutes is a sign to me that I needed it, and I'm slightly ashamed to admit that I did. I'd forgotten a simple lesson that took me 36 years to learn: savor life. I could expound upon it, go verbose (as I'm want to do) and wax philosophical for several paragraphs on it, but when I think about it, I can really condense it down to those two words. I've forgotten to do that lately - to hit each day head-on, dazzled with the possibilities it can hold, writing a page worthy of being written. I find that I've slipped into survival mode again, and I'm not content there. I'm not content to have pages unworthy of being read or, even worse, pages that would cause a reader to shut the book entirely. I am not content to lose the lessons that I've worked so hard to learn.
And so I was smacked this morning. Twice. And I am thankful.. but with any luck, I won't need it again for at least a couple of weeks.
And my personal favorite wake-up call:
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