Tuesday in NoVa

The view from here is eerily familiar. Woke up, walked out of hotel room and down hallway of another Hampton Inn and felt dazed, confused and exhausted. I woke up this morning knowing that I wasn't at home. Sadly, some mornings I wake up in my bed and wonder where I am for a few seconds before the brain kicks in...

Spent today with David Grant here in the greater NoVa area -- this covers a hell of a lot of towns/cities, and not just Alexandria and Arlington... But it was fun to be somewhere else, to have that blood-rushing experience of helping someone else realize where we fit for their needs and their clients and prospects. There is a lot of good stuff to be gained from sales -- I love this part of my job, and glad every day I get to do it.

Got this poem yesterday (thanks to my personal poetry delivery), and read it this morning to be struck silent by it...

Testy Pony by Zachary Schomburg

I am given a pony for my birthday, but it is the wrong kind of pony. It is the kind of pony that won’t listen. It is testy. When I ask it to go left, it goes right. When I ask it to run, it sleeps on its side in the tall grass. So when I ask it to jump us over the river into the field I have never before been, I have every reason to believe it will fail, that we will be swept down the river to our deaths. It is a fate for which I am prepared. The blame of our death will rest with the testy pony, and with that, I will be remembered with reverence, and the pony will be remembered with great anger. But with me on its back, the testy pony rears and approaches the river with unfettered bravery. Its leap is glorious. It clears the river with ease, not even getting its pony hooves wet. And then there we are on the other side of the river, the sun going down, the pony circling, looking for something to eat in the dirt. Real trust is to do so in the face of clear doubt, and to trust is to love. This is my failure, and for that I cannot be forgiven.

© by Zachary Schomburg, 2010.

As I sit in my room, going over the leftover email messages and trying to generate the desire to do some work, I appreciate accepting that love is trust and trust is love.