Sometimes, I actually use this.

 

My makeshift desk is littered with pale blue post-it notes. They’re piling up on the floor too. Weeks of lists I’ve been scrawling to myself, in some desperate attempt to restore order. It’s a brute force attempt. It’s not working. I’ve lost my Mojo.

I’m a huge fan of lists. Not because I’m really a list writer by nature, but because I’m not. And because I’m not, a list is what keeps me from standing in Safeway saying, “Now why am I here again?”  Dashed off reminders keep me focused, moving forward when the tide of fear and self-doubt threatens to shift the tenuous sand of faith beneath my feet. If you’re searching to be grounded, a reminder to do the laundry helps. It at least keeps you in fresh underwear. Assuming, of course, you remember to change them.

Better put that on a post-it too.

I’ve lost my Mojo. Misplaced it really. I’m sure I’ll find it on a blue post-it note along with a reminder to pick up my favorite wool sweater from the dry-cleaner and another gallon of milk while I’m at it.Â