Stop and smell the roses.

Take two:

h2. Stop and smell the roses.

*Focus.* But on what? New business? Existing business? To-do’s? Next actions? Multi-tasking my leisure moments, I hasten my step towards what? Death? Sleep? Release?

This job that I do, this job that I love, making things to help you reach me through the haze and bustle of our endless responsibilities has got me confused.

I want to move forward with blazing speed. I’ve got to; the train is moving that fast (at least it looks that way when I get off it and stand still). But, but, but (you know where this leads) what do I miss with my blinders set just so?

The details, the texture, the lush wet smack of recognition. The taste of success, tannic and rich that spreads out from mouth to my fingertips like the warm glow of alcohol.

But the buzz of the rush is reward in itself. Conquer, move on. Conquer, move on. To say one is better, more right than the other is what I sought to do when I sat down to write,

Yet now I’m not sure which prize is more rightgeous, for surely its me who’s to judge what I want. Interesting how the process of writing can help one to get at the truth of one’s own intentions.

Stop. Read. Repeat. Go again: I thought when I sat down to write this just now, that what I wanted was wrong, that what I needed was less. To my innocent surprise I find that more is just fine.

“Just know why you’re doing it” that voice says to me. “Set your eyes on the prize that is the process.” That works. Holy shit. That works rather well. I can be free from my shackles of self imposed doubt.

The prize is the process; not money, not fame. Move forward and manage my way through to those. They’re the prize in the box, not the cracker jack itself.