I’ve realized the more I travel the more I write. With competition season coming this may mean I return to writing at least once a week, as I did last competition season, but I won’t make any promises. I think I write because I spend too much time by myself on planes and in airports and write down what runs through my head. Last week the thought was going from Zero to One.
Going from Zero to One seems to be the hardest part of a journey. From laying in bed to the first step toward the bathroom to get ready on a cold Monday morning. From smoking to not smoking. To working out from not working out. For so many of these thing the first step or day is the hardest. The other steps are still hard, but for most not as hard as the first. Keep this in mind and get up and do something you meant to start. Once you get over the hump of the first day it gets easier.
Last week I was looking through some of the files on my computer to see what they were and if they can be deleted. It was interesting to come across drafts of posts from years ago. One that was rather amusing was from when I put my Twitter stream on this site and I was trying to explain what Twitter was. Anyway, today I’ll leave you with a story I came across while I was looking through my computer. It’s titled I Wish You Enough.
Recently I overheard a mother and daughter in their last moments together at the airport. They had announced the departure. Standing near the security gate, they hugged and the mother said, “I love you and I wish you enough”. The daughter replied, “Mom, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Mom”. They kissed and the daughter left. The mother walked over to the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see she wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on her privacy but she welcomed me in by asking, “Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be forever?”. Yes, I have,” I replied. “Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever good-bye?” “I am old and she lives so far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is – the next trip back will be for my funeral,” she said. “When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say, ‘I wish you enough’. May I ask what that means?”. She began to smile. “That’s a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone”. She paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail and she smiled even more. “When we said, ‘I wish you enough’, we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them”. Then turning toward me, she shared the following as if she were reciting it from memory.
I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright no matter how gray the day may appear.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.
I wish you enough pain so that even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye.