Up until now, I’ve operated with the belief that work is the only thing that really counts. By work, I mean work itself, but I also mean the difficulty of what I’m doing in something like reading, working out, a sport (mtb, ski, climb, run, kayak, etc).
If it’s not work in the traditional sense – in the office, on the computer, making a phone call, talking to clients, then I’m just wasting my time, fucking off, and it doesn’t and won’t really matter or make a difference. I’m just slacking.
And if a sport, workout, book, etc. hasn’t been hard enough, hasn’t caused me to stretch and to grow, to think, then the way my ego/brain/protector controller interprets it is that it wasn’t something that measured up and was a waste of time.
I’m just starting to realize that this way of thinking has been robbing me of my aliveness, my ability to love and appreciate time spent doing things that are not work, and are not hard. I can’t ever fully love or appreciate time off when I put all “time off time” in the category of “you could have been working…”
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