Smoke 'em if you got 'em

But only if you got ‘em. No going out to buy more.

I’ve wandered away from the gift idea in these blogs not because I haven’t been buying myself stuff—I’m getting a dress delivered today, and I did just order new flip-flops and, if you must know, a bra. I haven’t written about gifts in these blogs for a while because I don’t need anything new to help me ambush my fear and wield my ferocious dream.

I have everything I need—I just need to use it.

I have a wonderful office in the basement. It’s not a real room, but it’s demarcated by bookshelves and a faux fireplace mantel and has amazing light for a basement. I’ve had this room of my own for probably four years I use it all the time—like, All. The. Time.

Yesterday, I decided my office needed a new desk. I spent a good part of my sacred morning time moving my current desk around and measuring out the dimensions for a new one. It took hours of rearranging and considering what I would need to get rid of to make a new desk fit before I realized that the desk I have is exactly perfect.

Actually, the office was designed around the size of the desk. And it is just the right size for me to reorient when I want to—I can face it toward the window, at an angle, or perpendicular to the wall. I love my desk.

So why am I trying to get a new one?

• Because I can never seem to accept that I already have everything I need.

• Because telling myself that I am prepared to start means I have to start.

• Because ambushing fear and having a ferocious dream is scary.

No matter how I move my desk, the center working area stays under the pendant lamp I hung up years ago. No matter how I spin it, the work remains centered in my space.

Even when I try to rearrange my work, it stays centered on the light.

In other words, regardless of the gifts I give myself to enhance or escape my work, it is always there, in the middle of who I am and where I am, shining.

That’s afterglow worthy of a smoke.