Chasing simplicity. Thoughts on being alive.

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On living imperfectly

I like the French cafe I frequent. 

I mean, I don’t love everything about the cafe, but overall I like it. The baguettes don’t always come out toasted to the degree of my liking. I can’t use my card to pay, they recently switched to cash only.

Still, the faces are friendly, the soy lattes are great- they don’t turn sour when I let them sit for ten minutes while I devour my baguettes. The place is warm, inviting, decorated  with French knickknacks. French penmanship spells out the baguette menu.  It’s the furtherest thing from a commercial coffee chain. 

I know why they got rid of EFTPOS (cards) payments. The bank fees are insane - they are a necessary cost for the convenience of customers, as long as the sales figures justify it. Many of my favourite restaurants have closed, I do hope the French cafe stays.

I often journal in this cafe. The place offers an atmosphere laid-back enough for muscles to relax and thoughts to unravel. It is the opposite of rush when I am here, perhaps something others find in a church, or a good glass of red wine.

Reflections are great because the help me grow. I realised I am always rushing. I am constantly rehearsing how to deal with the troubles ahead. I live for the future, when I can tick items off that impossible to-do list. I plan and worry. I worry and plan. The present slips by quietly, like water running through uncupped hands.

I want TO BE HERE more. I read a book called HOW TO BE HERE, but I’ve forgotten most if not all of it. I suppose to learn certain things you gotta live, fumbling your way through the darkness and depths of your battles, and emerge with the truth etched into every fibre of your being. That truth needs to come from a place deep inside you. 

So today on my day off I’m switching off. Still doing it awkwardly, but I’m getting there. Bring on the beasts of the work week tomorrow, when I get back to work.

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