If I was to tell you today you should stop dreaming, you should stop making grandiose plans and construct diagrams of future projects, would you pay attention? If I was to tell you, stop bluffing yourself, you don’t have what it takes. You’re an imposter. You’re a fake. Stop trying so hard.
And here’s a taste from the second chapter:
The doctor makes a diagnosis
The Vision reappeared.
Maxime rose as if hypnotized and followed the young lady down the endless hallway toward a small room at the back. Shafts of morning light burst in through a side window, enveloping them in gold and accentuating the female form that floated ahead of him—the black leggings hugged her perfect bottom, firm thighs, and toned legs. Dear Lord, this hallway had better come to an end.
Being worried is what Maxime does best.
At sixty-four-and-a-half, Maxime Bastien Baumann wants to retire more than anything else, but he can’t. He’s too worried.
He’s not a hypochondriac; he’s just anally retentive. And obsessive compulsive. And constantly afraid of being late. His life is structured and lived by a set of rules: two full pages if he writes them down, double-spaced.
For Maxime, being late is never a bloody option.
We often talk too much (and too quickly.)
We live jam-packed lives; time is of the essence and we often speak before thinking it through. Whether we speak to someone in person or communicate (“talk”) via electronic and digital media and devices, we text (email, tweet, SMS, post on Facebook, Instagram, or Pinterest) too easily and too much. We get caught up in our ‘busyness.’ We’re always in a hurry. We talk fast. (We even eat fast.) We zoom in and close the deal as soon as possible.
Image – Viktor Hanacek – picjumbo.com
Inadequate at best—
to pen a shining life
of ninety and three years;
like water through fingers, she stole away
indisputable, unstoppable, to her final place of rest
Hush my dear brother,
did you not hear,
the man we called Father has passed?
At first disbelief; replaced by relief, later by grief—o why should we bother?
Yet, no more to fear:
his endless critique, relentless rebuke—deep shuddering sigh—no longer aghast
Listening to stories are for many of us of our earliest childhood memories. Sweet recollections of cozy times when stories were told or read to us by a parent, a grandparent or by a friend. Then, once we mastered the ABC, the world of the written world opened up to us. Many of us fell in love right away with reading, with books—with the insights, the journeys, the possibilities, the exotic places they could transport us to, imaginary or real.
But, we are all busy people—our lives filled to the brim with commitments—time is a scarce commodity. By answering this short survey, you will help me to better understand what you love reading about. Thanking you in advance for taking the time.
Thank you for completing the ten questions!
Theodor Seuss Geisel, American author, cartoonist, poet and artist, best known as Dr. Seuss, nailed it when he said, “The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more you can learn, the more places you’ll go.”
Enjoy your reading journey. Let’s “go places!”
Again, thank you for your time.
We have come to believe the stereotype of aging—growing older equals decline, loss of function, decrepitude, and loss of purpose.
Creativity will be the first to suffer in old age, we assert.
“Not so fast,” says Dr. John Goodenough, who at 94, is leading a team of engineers in Texas to develop a new solid-state battery. In 1980, when he was 58, he was the co-inventor of the lithium-ion battery.
IMG – Digital Trends – John Goodenough
The Friday afternoon when I arrived
they made me wait
‘till ten past five.
“Doctor is quite busy, see? Relax. Sit down. He knows you’re here. He knows he’s late.”
Finding hope. Finding certain hope. Not hope that is uncertain like a skimpy floatation device, but a proper orange life-jacket, with sufficient buoyancy, able to turn a face-down drowning person’s head, keep it above the thrashing waves, allowing breaths to be taken—sustaining life.
Have you ever walked across a burnt veld, days after the devastation and stumbled upon an unscathed flower?