February
10, 2014
A friend
just murmured “Happy Valentine’s week!” and I decide to treat myself to
breakfast out (not outdoors, in a restaurant) tomorrow. It has been a long time
coming. I will order all of the sides whose pictures appeal to me, drink gallons
of caffeinated coffee, and have red devil chocolate cake for dessert, no matter
the time of day.
I welcome
and honor stressful situations. Power and courage appears when I am stepping
into anxiety or angst. How can I know just what I have to offer if I stick to
the same old patterns, my identical way of being in the world? Can you grow
without the sticky places in life. Is it probable that I understand my limits,
boundaries and uncover skills and talents without pushing aside the barriers. I
doubt it.
The
Farmers Market planning meeting is always a pin prick scene for me. I
constantly tear down the reinforcements, put up screening and temporary plastic
sheeting, poking the ways of doing business, and calling people (including
myself) on their smallness. I believe sustainability has to come from a
strategic idea, with a budget and plan, not just some floating iridescent
figure appearing and scaring the heck out of everyone somewhere in the distant future.
Not certain if I will continue hawking maple syrup, perhaps I will raise red
worms, the humus they produce or steep tea from their excrement. Since I will
be out of the country for three solid best-selling weeks, I may have to
consider the reliability of the sales crew at the community table. Difficult
for me to hand over the reins to just anyone.
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