Bob is a bee who can’t seem to see The flow’rs ‘round him since he’s gazing at a tree The flowers have the nectar; the tree does not But its towering beauty can’t be forgot Now the day’s gone, he flies to his hive Bob the busy bee breezed through his 9-to-5 Back at home now, he’s got all tales about trees But honey? None to feed his family of bees Poor little Bob, so
In one of his notebooks, Leonardo da Vinci wrote this riddle: “Huge figures will appear in human shape, and the nearer you get to them, the more will their immense size diminish.” The answer: “The shadow cast by a man at night with a light.” When I think about this riddle, I can’t help but think of my life’s shadows and how da Vinci’s observation applies just the same. Oftentimes our troubles can seem gigantic,
I’m writing this as I wait for my last meeting of the day. There’s a lot going on at work, including a number of exciting stuff. But with all that comes a flurry of projects and activities that can fill up one’s week in no time. It’s days like this that I (need to) remind myself that a packed schedule does not necessarily mean it’s a productive one. It’s easy to mistake busyness for progress.
Stop this train I want to get off and go home again I can’t take the speed it’s moving in I know I can’t But, honestly, won’t someone stop this train Had a talk with my old man Said, “Help me understand” He said, “Turn sixty-eight You’ll renegotiate” “Don’t stop this train Don’t for a minute change the place you’re in And don’t think I couldn’t ever understand I tried my hand John, honestly, we’ll
It seems to me that many of our everyday decisions are driven by the fear of missing out. It manifests itself in many ways: our eyes are glued to our social media feeds, we’re constantly buying or saving up for the latest tech or fashion craze, and it seems we can never miss attending a social event or trip with friends—even at tremendous unreasonable cost to ourselves. It’s the unsettling anxiety that everybody else is