All posts tagged: mindfulness


I believe that less is more. It makes sense to me, on a fundamental level, like the passage of time conveyed by a setting sun. Its seemingly counter-intuitive nature shares a confident wink that tells me it knows something I’m not yet aware of. But I do know, I do understand…at least I thought I did. And therein lies the lesson, because no matter how much more I create with less, I will always be surprised. Endless discovery, boundless application, incalculable potential—for writing, for art, for life. an organic life pruned and sculpted with purpose focus…less is more — ASIDE: Over time, I’ve engaged subjects related to achieving more through less: Haiku, from my study of poetry; Shinrin-yoku, a happy-accident discovery that implored me to embrace the peace found within nature; a focus on details, learned from Anthony Bourdain’s travels to Japan, on his former show No Reservations; and, to some extent, The Minimalists, two men who dedicate their time to helping people live meaningful lives with less. What’s common throughout these subjects is the idea …


I want to be a clockmaker. But I want to envelop Father Time in a lullaby, thereby gifting minutes—or possibly hours—to people who dare to dream. Extra moments, for the mind to run free. It would be a magnificent clock indeed! Methinks five large hands, each one unique in design and whirling past Roman numerals—some missing, some cockeyed—with a tempest’s energy, in opposite directions. Fashioned like the grandfathers of yore, my clock would bewilder all eyes that looked upon it, propelling the expected into the realm of the unexpected, thus removing one’s mind from the linear passage of time and gently placing it into a nebulous and seemingly never-ending moment. Yes, I want to be a clockmaker. I want to give the gift of time, which is the creator of dreams. © 2018 Joe Blend. All rights reserved.

An Extension of Waves and Time | Joe Blend | A 2-oz. Read


life, priceless purpose monuments to moments remind us always love each breath The artwork below was made using a black Sharpie marker, a Ranger white opaque pen, a Precise V5 Rolling Ball extra fine black pen, and a sheet of paper from a Moleskine journal. The piece was then copied in black and white using an HP copier. The artwork and haiku are inspired by “Beyond Waves & the Notion of Time,” my journal post about the importance of the journey. © 2018 Joe Blend. All rights reserved.

On Shakespeare and Hallways | A 2-oz. Read | Joe Blend


“Pardon me…I know I am a meager office peasant but thou cluelessly standeth betwixt me and fair hallway. Would thou care to move thy hind carriage so I may venture onward to Cubicle-shire?” Many years ago, I worked in an office and like many professional environments, it was adjacent to a lobby and accompanying elevators. What I found most frustrating was the idle chatter that seemed to always develop just as an elevator reached its next stop. Because that chatter would sustain itself, despite the elevator doors opening and more people attempting to enter. Of course, there I was, just a simple office minion trying to make his way back to the cube farm…and there they were—gabbing away—even though elevator doors do not wait forever, and time stops for no one. I was a writer then too so naturally, I turned a negative into a positive, ergo, the short and slightly snarky jewel of prose above. Enjoy! © 2017 Joe Blend. All rights reserved.

Skipping Class, En Masse | 2-oz. Read | Joe Blend


Sense is a stalwart companion on the journey of life. It tells us to dance in the rain but only sing in the shower…because a slippery tub and disco moves are not good bedfellows. Sense implores us to walk before we run…because an ability to run doesn’t mean we should panic. It begs us to think smarter, not harder…because brick walls won’t let us pass, no matter how hard we try. That is sense, and it’s learned. Unfortunately, some people skip that class…en masse. Those individuals strip function from form thinking form doesn’t need to function. They think road rage is all the rage, and they stand tall thinking mere height means they’re taking a stand. Those individuals don’t think less is more because they still seek more even though it’s less. And they take advantage of their excuses, but they don’t excuse those who take advantage of them. There is nothing common about sense. Stay in school. © 2017 Joe Blend. All rights reserved.


Every day is a puzzle. We embrace the glory of progress as much as we’re flummoxed by stray pieces that litter the table. We’re psychologists because we live the human experience, but in the same breath we’re students because growth is only born from education. Mystery always leads to discovery, but answers usually create more questions. Therein lies the beauty of existence. Life, dear readers, is lived one day at a time. And every day is cryptic. © 2017 Joe Blend. All rights reserved.

The League of Librarians | 2-oz. Read | Blog


Deep in the nooks and crannies of society lives an organization, a dedicated movement, defined only by the unique ability of its members. I discovered the organization years ago and began to follow them, studying their every move. They have no handshake nor do they wear any sort of identifiable insignia. What’s most peculiar is they do not occupy a joint headquarters or secret lair but instead use their homes or public spaces as a base of operations. Despite that public presence, they operate in whispers and nudges, although they always use their abilities for the greater good. These extraordinary citizens—these devoted individuals—are known as the League of Librarians. The League of Librarians has been around for as long as stories have existed. It was formed in the distant past by the first person to ever tell a story. Regrettably, the League’s archives have no record of this person’s name or background so it appears that his or her identity is lost to the ages. Members of the League have a single magical ability: to …

Humanity | 2-oz. Read | Blog


Social media tried to connect us. And before that it was computers, which followed landline phones and so on. And those technologies were successful, to a point. That’s because they hurt us as well. Those achievements gradually lowered us into a virtual reality that, over time, evaporated what it means to be human. You see, digital is fake. It’s 0s and 1s that, with the help of light and electricity, create objects and experiences we recognize from the physical world. We think we’re pressing keys, we assume a notification is tantamount to a human voice, and we decide that pixels mimic bricks. It’s an elaborate magic trick—”smart” stuff—because what we’re participating in is nothing more than a series of taps on a flat screen. Remove the bells and whistles, turn off the light, and cut the power, and what remains is a flat surface that is no more magnificent than a table top. But most listen to the dings and pops; many are glued to the glow; a multitude refuse to cut the cord. And …

Power Cliches Keep the Hive Alive | 2-oz. Read | Blog


The prepackaged aspects of contemporary society produce a misguided mirage. That’s because “follow the leader” is the name of the game, and it is a game because square pegs in square holes built a cardboard landscape. The mentality behind the mirage—let’s call it “the hive”—believes trite speak on framed mountain peaks and bold ads for fresh fads should serve as challenges—to you and for you—to “be” a “better” “you.” It preaches the notion that working harder and not smarter will give you a reason to hold your head high. It wants you to believe that the latest and greatest tomorrow is within your grasp, but only with their guidance. Sounds great, right? Well, what the hive doesn’t tell you is that they’ll own your tomorrow if you let them. If you subscribe to their future, what was once considered cookie-cutter will suddenly appear as if it’s the cream of the crop. And you’ll dream in beige. Before you know it, life becomes a bland illusion in which you’re always chasing a carrot on a stick. …


My version of morning yoga can be described in two words: cathartic haircut. Unlike the joy I receive after scrubbing my coffee-stained teeth prior to the 9:30 p.m. wave of exhaustion I experience every night, my morning haircuts are clipper meditation, a cathartic experience gifting a fresh start. And that invisible burden of anxiety that typically accompanies a bountiful beard or helmet of hair? It now flows off my shoulders until the memory of such a feeling is reduced to clumps of grey and black. My morning has begun and it’s a blank canvas! © 2017 Joe Blend. All rights reserved.