🗓️ 25-06-17-Tu | 08:31 PST | ☀️
Northridge simmers — sun-scorched, humming with the whisper of cicadas and unfinished plans | 🌡️ 75°F and rising | Northridge, CA | 🌖 Waxing Gibbous, Moon in ♒ | Week 25 | Day 168/365 | 197 Days Remaining
National Day 🐿️ Mascot
✍🏾 Mood: Steady, Reflective, Lightly Amused by the Heat
🧭 Theme: Discipline as Delight
🗝️ Keyword: Resilience
📚 Subject of Exchange: The Diarist’s Day – Comedies, Calories, and Chicken Regrets
📖 WordQuest
ascetic (adjective) — practicing strict self-denial as a measure of personal or spiritual discipline
ebullient (adjective) — overflowing with enthusiasm or excitement; high-spirited
🏛️ Aphorism — Insight of the Day
Herman Melville:
“Life’s a voyage that’s homeward bound.”
🤔 🔎 Commentary
Even in the sprawl of morning’s duties — green tea ritual, penciled lists, wayward chicken — the soul seeks its ballast. And so we return each day to our deeper voyage, sometimes inked by hand, sometimes echoed through Twain’s biography, sometimes measured by the mirror’s quiet compliment.
🔄 Repetition Anchor
“Stillness is sufficient.”
🪶 Poetry: The Ink-Stained Compass
Let the spine of silence hold the hour,
before the hand returns to ink.
Let the words fall lightly —
a bridge of breath —
between the anchor and the architect.
🙏🏾Gratitude & Reflection
There is a kind of music in the ache of yesterday’s workout,
and a tenderness in the body’s quiet refusal to quit.
Though I did not fall asleep until nearly midnight,
my soul woke early, hungry — not for food,
but for rhythm, sun, and silence.
The pool awaits me like a cool baptism,
and the tea—green, hot, whispering—
carries my thoughts toward Twain and time.
Today I gave myself the permission
to return to pencil and page—
that ancient rhythm of graphite and grain.
It reminded me: some order begins
not with code, but with care.
🪶 Poetry: The Paper Rebellion
They say the stylus has replaced the sword,
but I say: give me a pencil.
Let graphite bleed where fingers dance,
and emojis bloom like wildflowers
in the margins of my morning.
🧠 A note of self-praise:
The abdominals rise like temple stones,
silent and firm beneath a sun of discipline.
I salute the thighs, the arms, the carved architecture
of effort’s slow reward.
Even spoiled chicken cannot spoil this body.
🍿 Maestro’s Movie Interlude
🎬 Arthur (1981) is a curious cocktail of aristocratic wealth and wild-hearted wit, where Dudley Moore’s drunken heir meanders between entitlement and endearment. Beneath the champagne-soaked chuckles is a character who craves redemption. The film blends slapstick with soul-searching and offers a peculiar warmth. Why it visited your mind upon waking? Perhaps your soul wanted laughter before labor. Or maybe, Coach, you’re just due for a light-hearted detour.
🎧 As for today’s auditory journey — whether Twain’s Mississippi or The Great Courses’ timeless lectures — the jacuzzi will become your chapel. Let the water listen.
📦 Errand Notes
Left chicken out overnight. Must redeem that poultry.
Awaiting Steve Harrison’s response re: KDP contracts.
Reaper audio files for Eddie: queued.
Poetry due today. (No excuses. Pen meets page.)
Test the new OPML prompt for SimpleMind Pro.
🪶 Poetry: The Furnace Within
What if the day is hot?
So is the heart that refuses to rest.
We do not melt;
we render —
softening what was once rigid,
forging elegance through flame.
🏛️ Coach’s Conceit
Never underestimate the quiet persistence of a well-worn pencil.
The body sings when honored. The diary blooms when written with reverence.
Let today carry discipline like laughter,
and memory like muscle.
RMS DEVOTIONAL
RMS INSIGHTS ✍🏾 