Hurry up and slow down...

If you see me talking to myself, do not disturb, I'm having a staff meeting.

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Some days are harder to show up for than others. Aren't we all on edge? If we truly are stardust--whipping up elements from the dawn of the universe on a cellular level--where does the sorrow, angst, or fear live?

I would argue it is filtered through our brains.  Perhaps our creative selves can manifest these signals into meaningful or at the very least soothing tropes or missives.

But today. I got nothing. I walked slowly to the gym hoping that my routine of "outsideness" would help to shake the funk. I listened to an uplifting conversation between Austin Kleon and Debbie Millman, Design Matters.

And started to unclench a wee bit. Stories from the edges of how people define creativity or their work--Austin claims, a writer who draws. Also how to navigate the doubts and insecurities.

I am an ultra-runner so I have learned patience at the hand of "embracing the suck" but today I only checked the box of "showing up". Nothing slid into the groove but hey--I went through the motions.

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Professionally there has been a stall or two in a few projects--one really hit home. A rare disease of personal interest to me. A lovely neighbor, curator of ancient art, was misdiagnosed and then diagnosed with a rare Parkinsonian type disease. Pharma was interested until it wasn't deemed profitable, no funding, no molecule.

Many colleagues imagine it is only sunshine and smiles in the independent world of digital media. My two passions of writing and analytics speak to each other through my work. Leaving one or the other out of the conversation results in a phantom limb of sorts. But often they are at odds.

Requests to write are often saddled with datasets not up to the task at hand--regardless of client enthusiasm. When I decline, I know there will be an endless pool of writers only too happy to cash the check regardless of the chasm between ethics and action.

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While I am writing this I have a teenager losing his mind in the background. He is x-country captain and a rising senior in high school. He has spent 3 weeks at an academic program in Chicago and is heading for the beach for a week. He is mad because I won't let him miss practice for an overnight thing with his friends. I explain how when able--he needs to be there for his team. His argument? It sounds like that Charlie Brown teacher although less warm, fuzzy, and endearing.

I just felt like checking in. I start most days running and writing. Those are the best days. Often we have to trust the ritual. Even if we feel like there is nothing to say.

On a positive note I am left with more time to finish up the latest workshop classes for you, prepare for my month on an island, and work with large datasets.

Not everything in our working lives is an instagramy perfect filter vibe. Case in point--drinking my tea on the run. The real deal.

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You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down -- Toni Morrison