Measure only from your heart and soul
What are we paying attention to? What everybody else is doing or what is the truth? Deborah Johnson
Sharing this from my girl Maxie McCoy
You have bank accounts. You have social accounts. Taps on a picture. Cash in the bank. Friends. So many friends. The crew. The digital. The status on your airline. The points on your card.
You’ve got a credit score. Letters by your name. You’ve got 140 character bios. And super sassy business cards.
Bullets on a resume. Figures in your savings.
They’re the things you have. Things you’ve built. Things you’ve worked toward. But they aren’t your essence. Your being. Your magic. They aren’t you.
Yet, they’re the stuff you slide into measuring yourself by. It’s how you measure up. It’s your measure – the same measure that will never be enough.
Who cares that they have that.
Who cares what you do and they don’t.
Who cares how fancy their pants, how skinny their thighs, how cool their travel, how stacked their likes.
Your life isn’t measured in numbers or counts, dollars or options, the size of your house or the brand of your shoe.
It’s not the measure that matters. It’s the measure that breeds pain and comparison and false ideals, wrong dreams and discounted pleasures.
The measures that matter are the ones you can never count. The measures that matter have no tracking, no digits, and no material value.
The count that matters is the bottomless belly laughs with your besties over past memories that still make you crack.
It’s watching her walk down the aisle, remembering their love story.
Raising your hands to the sky and saying sweet thanks.
It’s the precious time with your family. The ones that make you wonder what you ever did to deserve them. The seconds that pass through smiles and sarcasm.
Extra-long hugs with kids. Fly by kisses with lovers. Sharpie’d post-it notes on the mirror that make your tummy flutter.
Day dreams. Realized dreams. Dancing in your kitchen to a tune that makes your hips swing.
Conversation with strangers – receptionists, travel agents, twitter friends. Conversations that change you. That school you. That warm you.
Those are the moments. Those are the measures. The measure that says life is good. The feelings that count. The stuff that sticks. The real value. The real meaning.
Measure your life with love. Of others. Of you. Measure with joy, from deep and lasting support. Measure it in what you give. Measure in what you feel. Measure only from your heart to your soul.