I quit

I’ve been up a while.

I can’t say I’ve moved back into high gear with my early-morning starts, but I certainly feel the groundswell of something beyond the preparedness for another day at the (working from home) office.

Let’s just say that I’ve important soul work to do.

The rubric?

I did once.


I walked out on a legal career — if you can call it that: it was more consternation than consideration of what really constituting an all-signing, all-dancing career.

I’ve no regrets, or at least not that I’m willing to admit. Oh sure, my little pile of stones is out there somewhere and perhaps one day I’ll take a look at the ‘shoulds’ and ‘if onlys’ but for now I’ve too much living to do, even though as a friend of mine remarked yesterday on a wonderful, love-filled Zoom call, “It’s like we’re all living under a wet blanket”.

I feel that.

Do you?

Like life has been muffled or should I say muzzled by this egregious CV19.

But, seriously, without wanting to bore you rigid with another tale of lament, I wish once in a while we’d throw up our hands in horror — or whatever other emotion we’re seized by — and shout “I quit”. I mean, we’re not superhuman and what’s wrong with admitting that enough really is enough!

We don’t.


Oh god, don’t get me started but mostly it’s because we’ve signed up to or been irredeemably assigned to the moral order.

Yes, you heard me. The moral bloody order.

Do the right thing.

Play by the Rules.

Be a good boy/girl/he/she/it.

Never, or not as often as we should (perhaps) say:

“To hell with it. This life — the one I’ve built for myself one little brick at a time — sucks.”

Nah. That would be too radical or at least it wouldn’t be what the market of give-a-shit or be all you can be would expect.

The truth is (and I sincerely hope you feel this at the deepest, most profound level), none of us really know why we’re here but we all have a gift — a genius gift. And, sadly, we either squander it or do a volte-face our true self because we’re too afraid of the consequences if we actually followed our bliss.

Of course, I can’t possibly speak for you but that doesn’t stop me wondering what a world might look like where the moral order wasn’t writ large and we forever escaped the torpor of doing the same thing over and over for nothing more than the dollar and brought our genius self into the light.

Somehow, as naive as it sounds, I’ve got this strange feeling that the world might be a better place.

But of course, I could be very, very wrong.

Anyhow, it’s that time again: dog walk, exercise and revelling, not in a smug way, in the wonderful backdrop of Dartmoor.