It's almost like I've jumped tracks. A weird series of events transpired last night that led me believe I've moved up a level in spirituality, that things were getting too easy for me.
Now that I know how to budget, how to save money, and that I will eventually be published, I've been given a whole new set of challenges to which I can apply that knowledge, knowledge which took me over thirty years to lose and subsequently reacquire.
In the last five days, I have only spent $4 that I didn't need to. As a result, I've been afforded clarity regarding my spending habits, and an understanding of how deeply rooted they were in my need for instant gratification.
I now view money practically, and not a means by which to attain emotional stability. To the contrary, using money to fill emotional holes only digs them deeper. Otherwise, the two have nothing to do with each other.
Over the last few days, I've spent a substantial amount of time typing up the printed copies of short stories I had misplaced and subsequently reacquired, leading me to a treasure chest of stories I had forgotten I had.
Applying the spiritual lessons I've learned to drafts that I believed were finished when I lost them has led me to a much deeper appreciation for my writing ability and my potential as a professional author. The grandiosity that I used to wear on my sleeve has quited to a wholesome humility, the only place from which I can write at the level I do now.
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