Salvaging our very own reuse is a recovery salvation. Any twelve-stepper would be proud to acknowledge the reclamation of a safe self. Such higher power is seated at the right hand of you every day (no offense Lord). That is your proverbial right hand (or left if you like better as stating for the lefties). I’m talking the embodiment of you having perpetual resources at your fingertips given your choice to embrace them. There is no excessive need to harvest enormously outside that with which you came in and are being. Do not seek to make yourself something you are not. Work with what you’ve got, as spiritually as if God has seated you as his right hand motivational speaker. In fact, take a sweet cue from one dear Life Without Limbs Nick Vujicic if you think I’m any bit off kilter.
Kindling responsibility for reuse is civility as vital for the whole of our bodies equal to that of the planet. Veering towards any disruption or consideration of worth, let us rouse faith in recycling beyond the modern means of colored bins shuffled like football players during practice over and again. Recycling isn’t solely for material things. Rehashing our thoughts, deeds, words, and certainly virtues lend a coherence of protection narrative. Knowing why something occurred prior, how we reacted in order to correct best-laid plans this next timing, or when we might turn the other cheek compared to that spikey engagement a first round are valuable assets of recycling us.
There is no such thing as ‘away’. When we throw anything away it must go somewhere. ~Annie Leonard
I’ve come to think that a good portion of my thirst for the new, the unknown, the unseen ever before by me stems from this gnawing notion that re-feeling, reexamining, and re-thinking what I’ve done already has a level of exhaustion that’s uncomfortable at best. It’s not that I thumb my nose at structure or repetition entirely, so much as I crave the vastness of creation I think I’ll never have the chance to cover enough in this lifetime. For me, caution has mostly been perceived as a place with padded walls and not intended for the average soul to stay, aside from mental crisis. Yet, I’ve found prudence a healthy recycled tool in my post-entitlement-twenties later decades. The resulting years well-worn on my brain is a slow dawning each time I’m in familiar territory that herein lies an opportunity. Lest we forget, anything has a place. The very existence of a table or a point of view sits someplace. Do not wish things away, as it’s dumping your items on others. Instead, repurpose and regenerate all usefully.
We never know the worth of water till the well is dry. ~Thomas Fuller
Interwoven in the very thing of everything are lessons. There is no sense in waiting to learn. Education is endlessly available from the onset. Growth is not merely external stimuli punching its holes into me. I can make mountains or molehills from all my own triggers formulated all within myself. We technically can not rid ourselves of anything. Ideas, reflections, beliefs live inside us. Unfettered and unexamined, the poor ones can fester into cancers or kidney stones. My migraines have long been acute conversations of stress and self-defeat I feel my body aching to obtain my attention to correct. Even biodegradable, compostable, recycled items are turned into else and not wholly disappearing agents. All these actions merit evaluation ongoing. As we accept assessing what happens, all that will repeat in our days as desired and that which is unwelcome, we bridge an appreciation for recycling far-reaching the esteem it warrants.
Often when you think you’re at the end of something, you’re at the beginning of something else. ~Fred Rogers
You do not have to be great, but you ought at least be good. I’m decisively prepared to adjust at any given moment. Four decades and a lot of change (figuratively and figuratively), I know the value of coughing up a chance to amplify my occurrence from proper to priceless. Occasions simply do not always present themselves again. In fact, much of the glamour captures my friends and family love to tell about my life comes from these experiences where I’ve cleverly recycled the nerve to act outside my means, within the realm of an Oscar-nominee, as if I belonged, deserved, was owed, owned, or otherwise was supposed to receive whatever I wanted in that instance. Access is an absolute state of mind embedded with the collaborative magic of the counterpart(s) agreeing with your chosen state of being. Fake it til you make it blares loudly in the mind’s eye in these situations. I choose not to live in pomp and circumstance, but to dance their balls or walk their halls at times is precious. Luxury is more a state of mind I relish. Close at heart and hand, I keep those qualities of extreme recirculation of empowerment.
Frequent revaluation to open yourself to infinite inspirational engendering.