It’s Christmas in Hawaii. Back on “the mainland”, you have stress. Work is piling up. Coworkers don’t know how close they come to forcing you to reduce them to photographs on the side of milk cartons. Chances are your apartment is messy, your bank account isn’t what it should be at your age, family and friends wonder why you can’t attract a nice guy into your life (obviously you’re not the one to ask – you want to tell them to track down the guys you’ve met over the years and ask them why none have stayed for a longer conversation than “Hmm, that’s fascinating. Nice to meet you, but I’m going to walk over *there* now”) and you realize you’ve spent your entire adult life in pursuit of a paycheque rather than your dreams because the brief period of time in your life when you did pursue your dreams you had to constantly explain to people that no, you didn’t quit a good job with little thought to your financial security and no, it isn’t the same as running off to join the circus because you’re good at what you’re doing now and can actually make it as a writer and no, the sky in your world isn’t purple with pink polka-dots and you actually are in possession of your senses, you just wanted to try being happy for once in your life. And it didn’t work.
So you need The Turtle Perspective:
You're standing barefoot on the rough concrete Waikiki pier, watching the pale sun rise over Diamondhead at 6:00 a.m., shoes in hand to save them from the cool ocean waves lapping over your feet, sleep still in the corners of your eyes, unbrushed hair pulled back from your face to curl around the clip that casually holds it. The humid fresh salty air opens your lungs and soothes your body as you listen to the water break against the nearby beach and rush up the sand, only to retreat with a swoosh back under the next wave eager for its turn to arrive. Down by your feet a sea turtle peeks his nostril above the surface for a quick breath before plunging back down into the shallow water for his breakfast. You are calm. You are relaxed. You are content. Ahhh.
(Use as Required. But in your vision, don’t get so relaxed and calm that you fall into the water. It scares the sea turtles)
So you need The Turtle Perspective:
You're standing barefoot on the rough concrete Waikiki pier, watching the pale sun rise over Diamondhead at 6:00 a.m., shoes in hand to save them from the cool ocean waves lapping over your feet, sleep still in the corners of your eyes, unbrushed hair pulled back from your face to curl around the clip that casually holds it. The humid fresh salty air opens your lungs and soothes your body as you listen to the water break against the nearby beach and rush up the sand, only to retreat with a swoosh back under the next wave eager for its turn to arrive. Down by your feet a sea turtle peeks his nostril above the surface for a quick breath before plunging back down into the shallow water for his breakfast. You are calm. You are relaxed. You are content. Ahhh.
(Use as Required. But in your vision, don’t get so relaxed and calm that you fall into the water. It scares the sea turtles)
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