It is the engaged life that makes you go skipping down the sidewalk.
Even when you’re in your fifties.
I’m not copping to that exactly, but I think photos are out there so I can’t go in for plausible denial.
The engaged life is the enchanted life. You know it, I know it, my dog knows it. Squirrels and lizards set his big galoofus heart a-patter. People and ideas do that for me.
And being useful.
Like Thomas the Tank Engine. Who aspired to be a Really Useful Engine, though he was often “a cheeky little engine” too. That’s my kind of train.
Productivity for its own sake never works unless there is real true singing soaring spirit significance attached to it.
I’ve been highly productive and massively unhappy.
When you’re in hot pursuit of goals you didn’t really set for yourself there’s going to be some wreckage along the way.
Relationships. Your body. Your mental capacity. Your compassion capacity. Your capacity for life. Your life.
Conversely, like you, I’ve also been stretched beyond my seeming limits and have been overjoyed.
Some kind of inner anti-gravity field buoys you up when you’re deeply in line with your mission, regardless of the noise and chaos exploding around you.
Engagement is simple:
1) It’s listening carefully to what your inner tuning fork is telling you. It never fails you. Your inner instrument always resonates with your soul work.
(Which is play! Soul work is play!)
2) It’s taking action in that direction. Daily.
Productivity is meaningless unless you know what is meaningful.
For you —
Click here for occasional notes to your inbox on creativity, spirituality and whee!