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You’re always working on something.
Towards something.
A project.
A goal.
A plan divided into smaller steps you take today—
but always with your focus on the future.
And when that project’s finished,
the goal achieved,
the deadline met—
perhaps you give yourself a little rest.
A well-deserved reward for the accomplishment.
But then,
or even sooner,
you always ask:
What’s next?
I noticed it myself this morning.
I took my first sip of tea, still sleepy,
and out of nowhere it was there,
the thought “What’s next?”
This used to be normal.
I was the forever what’s-next girl.
Always looking forward.
Always working towards something.
Always focused on the next dream,
the next project,
the next moment.
Always scanning for my next best version,
and how to be her now.
I was never really here, now.
I was always in next or past.
Like you.
Most of your attention is divided over
what might be
or what has been.
But it’s rarely here.
Now.
This time,
when the thought about what’s next came up,
I didn’t act.
I didn’t take my journal to start brainstorming.
I didn’t take my notebook with ideas for books and projects
to see which one called me.
(I threw it out long ago.)
This time,
I saw the thought.
I watched it come and go.
In that space I used to fill with action
a new thought came:
What’s now?
This:
Tea, drunk in tiny sips (it’s still scorching hot.)
Hands, moving over keys.
Words flowing.
Seeing them appear on white
through eyes not quite awake yet.
Looking up, seeing leaves dance in the wind.
More houses.
Other people waking up, so I imagine.
I no longer live in next.
I live right here, right now.
At least for now.
You?
Towards something.
A project.
A goal.
A plan divided into smaller steps you take today—
but always with your focus on the future.
And when that project’s finished,
the goal achieved,
the deadline met—
perhaps you give yourself a little rest.
A well-deserved reward for the accomplishment.
But then,
or even sooner,
you always ask:
What’s next?
I noticed it myself this morning.
I took my first sip of tea, still sleepy,
and out of nowhere it was there,
the thought “What’s next?”
This used to be normal.
I was the forever what’s-next girl.
Always looking forward.
Always working towards something.
Always focused on the next dream,
the next project,
the next moment.
Always scanning for my next best version,
and how to be her now.
I was never really here, now.
I was always in next or past.
Like you.
Most of your attention is divided over
what might be
or what has been.
But it’s rarely here.
Now.
This time,
when the thought about what’s next came up,
I didn’t act.
I didn’t take my journal to start brainstorming.
I didn’t take my notebook with ideas for books and projects
to see which one called me.
(I threw it out long ago.)
This time,
I saw the thought.
I watched it come and go.
In that space I used to fill with action
a new thought came:
What’s now?
This:
Tea, drunk in tiny sips (it’s still scorching hot.)
Hands, moving over keys.
Words flowing.
Seeing them appear on white
through eyes not quite awake yet.
Looking up, seeing leaves dance in the wind.
More houses.
Other people waking up, so I imagine.
I no longer live in next.
I live right here, right now.
At least for now.
You?
Love,
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