It's so quiet here. I'm staying with some friends on the outskirts of town in Phoenix. The silence is good because it's helping me recharge. Working with clients, and working on the book, and getting over pneumonia, and traveling took a lot out of me.
I like going out by myself and walking through the deserted desert. It's just me and the cactus and desert shrubs. I think people here are so used to the open desert, they have no desire to explore like I do. It reminds me of the empty beaches when I used to live in Los Angeles.
I have my basics with me. My suitcase full of clothes. My guitars. A file of important papers. A few framed pieces of my art. And a handful of books. It all fits nicely in my car. The flexibility this allows helps me to get quiet on the inside. It's my monk time.
I think we all need some quiet time. Time away from the computer, cell phones, TV, and even our home. The world doesn't encourage this introspection. But by being too noisy inside and out, we end up becoming reacting machines. It becomes hard to notice what parts of our life we love and the parts we don't.
When I'm working with clients, I'm aware of how they've worn a groove into their current life. It's been so long since they've stopped and stepped away and taken a fresh look. There is an initial resistance because the momentum of constant going is hard to stop.
But the stepping away, whether it's leaving your life for a day, a weekend or longer, creates the space so you can see what you love and nourish it. And see what's lost its appeal and needs to be removed.