here truth pours

Yesterday I was not so happy with myself. It is hard, digesting criticism. I hold myself to standards that soar higher than skyscrapers. While I claim "imperfection" is beautiful - the direct application of it in my life proves me - hypocritical.

When Maa teaches me that long floral stems have a better aesthetic than short ones, while we wrap packages - I wonder, "why don't I already know this?"

I also catch myself being impatient with my father. He's got discipline. A core value I'm absorbing in pixels, bit by bit as I work with him. He doesn't get up from his chair till he's exhausted all possible permutations and combinations of an idea.

Eyes of a hawk, and the dedication of a monk with his rituals.

The source of my impatience? My inability to see beyond my nose. Or the rush to get shit over with - because "oh my god there's so much to do - do we really need to focus on THIS rn?"

The answer, is yes.