If there's one thing I will spend my life working on it's consistency. I am not entirely inconsistent, I somehow never waver from feeding, watering or putting myself to sleep, but with much in my life I flit. This year I will turn 30, and I guess it's making me reflective. If I were to put a word to the decade of my twenties I think that word would be 'growth', hmmm maybe 'depth' or possibly 'development'. OK I don't have one word yet but you get the drift. From 20 - 30 I had a lot of lessons to learn and many roads to travel... most led inward. Realising that discipline makes my life better not worse was a big step. Deciding what was good for me and deciding to pursue those things even when I suck at them was another. Understanding that some things will take years rather than days or minutes to improve was huge.
Mostly the last decade was about not giving up.
Not giving up reading the Bible, not giving up talking to God, not giving up mastering food and not letting food master me, not giving up learning, not giving up making new friends and opening up to old ones, not giving up on dreams, not giving up on reading, not giving up on listening, not giving up on... the list goes on, I won't bore you.
Today however - despite all my learning - my socks are taunting me. They are holy, and not in a good way. I have three approaches to such a problem: chuck 'em, darn 'em or ignore 'em. With this particular pair it's time to decide and door number 3 may have been chosen one time too many. My inconsistency in dealing with this small household task is bugging me. It's like a metaphor for the many ways I put off deciding to act. Act about what, I'm not sure but as I know there is still much for me to find consistency and strength in, it could be many things. I am inconsistent - my socks give me away. End of stream of consciousness.