As I’m writing this, I’m cross-legged in one of my favorite chairs. This chair overlooks my bedroom and my outdoors, and it gets perfect natural light.
If I’m honest, I stopped sitting in it for a few months, and my chair almost became my decorative chair. It would have been a shame for such a comfortably functional chair to go to waste.
I’m seated in this chair with two books, a notepad and pencil, and my journal.
Can you imagine a more perfect morning?
I like my chair and I like my view from it.
It should have been my chair like an old man or woman might have.
But instead, it almost became an expensive decorative.
Why?
If you really must know, it was my fault. I got excited by my task list and forgot to slow down.
I forgot that slow moments were necessary.
Gladly, because it’s my chair, it beckons me.
It begins as a whisper and erupts into a roar: Hey — it’s been a while.
When I can no longer stand the clamor, I come. And I sit, cross-legged, overlooking my bedroom and outside.