There is a part in the movie Ghostbusters, where the men are crouching on the roof-deck waiting for the big ghost or ghoul to arrive, when they remember that it can be created into whatever form they desire. The only restriction being that it is their first thought. Hence a giant Mr Marshmallow sailor waddles around the corner.
What if every month, your thirty or thirty one days were designed around the first thought you had as you awoke on that morning of each first?
Think on today, your own morning. August 1st. Was it a good moment, thus becoming a good month? Hopeful? Funny? Full of stress, worry? Relaxed, languid, pondering? Smiling, frowning?
How sweet, private and intelligent are those first thoughts. How often do you pay attention to them? Yet, perhaps they hold a magic that guides your day. Or educates you on what would be healthy for you. Telling you what you need rather than what you think you want. Full of true wisdom before the brain translates. Is a sad mood, perhaps just an indication to slow down? A buoyant one, celebrating your gifts?
In my last months with David at home, I would have told you that my
waking thoughts were heavy. They were not, as my very first thoughts
were always of love. It was the stress talk that threw me into the
massive to do list. What I am referring to, are those tiny thoughts that occur BEFORE we allow the life we have titled, to pull open our eyelids.
Our own thoughts are all that we truly have, yet we rarely pay enough attention to them. How easy it is to jump on the habit talk of: I'm stressed, I hate my life, I'm fat, I can't do this. Rather than the dream talk that will sometimes elevate you to Heidi Klume status, where you can fly, or sing or meet those you love who are far, far away.
One of my places of work, has a regular customer survey, the results of which are internally shared. I know that the positive feedback I have received, has not been shared. It's a managers choice to focus (or hunt for) a negative. How quick we are to do that to ourselves and to others. Life constantly throws its Michael Caine arrows. It is our choice to dodge them or take a few in the leg, and occasionally the heart.
I chose August to be a month where I listen for my own feedback. I share compliments extremely easily and honestly, it's a honor to do that, a simple joy. Just this week I caught myself desperately (in bold letters) needing a compliment from another person. To prove what? To show me that they could say something about me that I may not believe anyway? If this person is unable to share a compliment, isn't that saying more about them than it is about me? (Am I looking like Carrie from Sex in the City as I type this?) If for whatever reason, a positive communication can not be verbal, aren't I in control of how long I hang around waiting for one? Or to the extent that I recognize other signs?
All I really need to do, is know myself. So, that's what I woke up thinking about this August 1st.
Get to know myself.
That and Cheerios and nail colors.
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