At some stage in the last month or so, I decided that my life was way too complicated. I was wasting far too much time on stuff that was simply not important. I was doing things I didn’t want to do out of some misguided sense of obligation. Yes, I bear the burden of a Catholic convent-school education and all that comes with growing up in twentieth-century Ireland, but even by those measures, there was way too much should in my life and not nearly enough just because.

In recent weeks, I’ve been chipping away slowly at the yoke I’ve been lugging around. I’ve gone to ground. I’ve slept. I’ve taken the time I needed to figure out what’s real. I’ve realised that I’ve made my life what it is and that I can unmake it, too. The new recipe is one of simplicity. It’s slower, less anxious, more breathable. It involves fewer crowds and more one-on-ones.

And, as the universe is wont to do, today it chipped in with a few numbers of its own to show that I’m headed in the right direction.

My mate JP O’Malley, him who has a way with words, posted this earlier this morning:

Spring is wonderful. Continual bird song.The smell of fresh cut grass. Flowers blooming after a long hard Winter.
The sound of children playing.The eyes of beautiful women. Life emerging from the crevice of every street corner. Everything teeming with sunshine, possibility and hope.

Possibility. Hope. Two more ingredients to add to my recipe.

And then the inimitable Little John Nee, a man whose talent and heart I admire tremendously, took himself off to the forest and sang his way through the trees.

Just what I needed to add a lilt to my soul. Classic stuff. Thanks lads.


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