I'm glad I go out hurling. It's doing. Whether I hit the ball or not doesn't matter. When the ball sails half way down the field, I smile. When it drops to the ground followed by a swish, I wind up and try again. Brush, brush, toss, grip, swing, hit, follow through. That's all there is to it really. Toss height to a point between shoulder and chin seems to give good results. Two months ago I'dve been happy with 2 or 3 hits an hour.
I hope I'm stretching and warming up right. That's important. All days are valuable, but those days when you wake up early and go to bed tired are more valuable than others. How peculiar will it be to look back on all I've written after several short years? Yeah, it'll take longer than I thought. That's part of the deal.
I have googled 'hope is cruel'. The results appear to have timed out. How wonderfully ironic! I will go from this place and keep my words for myself. Smiles and nods. Don't say too much.
Don't say too much.
I have a great many people to thank for the progress I've been able to make.
Are we free? Or are we shackled to our ties that bind? Family, friends, work... It all adds up to a life where we make a lot of decisions. These decisions can seem insignificant when made, but they often turn out to influence more than we initially realise. Our Free Will allows us to make these decisions. But what if we didn't have Our Free Will? Someone else would have to decide... Could you?
