Ever since one of my buddies started using FOCUS as a common command in the endless meetings AND then told me why he does that, I have had a giggle about using the focus, focus, focus mantra on myself.
(FOCUS is an acronym for F&%@ Off ‘Cause ‘Ur Stupid.)
However, in my mind I have separated the words by capitalizing the acronym.
Nick Usborne did a blog yesterday (it was his birthday and that came to my attention because it was also my son’s birthday).
http://www.nickusborne.com/2012/01/the-secret-of-success-is-to-stay-focused-on-one-thing/
What struck me is this line — “The most successful freelancers and entrepreneurs remained focused on a single topic, or skill, often for their entire careers.”
Coupled with the fact that my son turned 44 yesterday, it was an epiphany for me. If my son is 44, how darned old am I? And while I have a great time in life, I cannot say that I was ever focused. I write — well ghostwrite — and I have spent a lot of time working as a technical instructor.
The one thing that has always been with me is my desire to conquer chaos. But there is a theory that we are fascinated by those things that most elude us.
In my case, that is apparently behind my fascination with chaos.
On the Road
One of Susan Jardine's paintings
Last year in a supreme effort to deal with chaos, I got rid of everything. I mean everything including my home. Which was an apartment. And I hit the road and for almost a year, I couch surfer, housesat, travelled by planes, trains, and automobiles. And Greyhound.
Talk about boot camp!
During this time, I learned to listen to the universe. New Year’s eve, 2010, I was just beginning the journey and was in the town I had lived in 30 years ago. THIRTY years? That astounded me.
I went to a grocery store that was near where I used to live and was walking through it remembering the good old days and I saw a face that looked so much like my old buddy Susan.
I assumed that was due to the memories and the proximity to Givan Drive. She had lived a few blocks from me. The close we got as we strolled down the aisle, the more she looked like Susan. (I got new glasses since then and if I’d had them on at the time, I would have seen the resemblance sooner.)
It was Susan!
I knew she no longer lived there. Actually last I heard she was in Italy.
She’d started a similar journey a few years earlier and it was serendipity that brought the two of us to the same Sobey’s on New Year’s Eve.
More on the reunion later — the point is that Susan found a focus in painting and she has become a well-known painter and is revelling in her art and selling it at a brisk pace.
[Update to follow on Susan's art.]
