Most mornings I try to drag myself into a sitting position to practice mindfulness. I do this because if I delay and say to myself, "Later," I'll never do it. My body craves to stay prone, probably forever. But sitting up and following my breath, I can check my internal weather conditions and if I don't check in, they'll unconsciously influence everything I do in the day.
I hate making resolutions because I'm always changing my mind on what on I want to do. I evolve as the world around me evolves. I do however, have a big picture goal and a system I use to prevent me feeling completely overwhelmed by all the things I want to do, so I thought I'd share it with you today.
I roll over and look at my wife, she is staring hard at the ceiling, I recognise that look - unless I'm very much mistaken that's her "I've-just-tutted-to-wake-you-up" look. "Did you just tut?" Silence. "Are you okay?" "I'm FINE" *Tut* "Have I done something wrong?" She gets out of bed and starts stomping round the bedroom, viciously pulling the curtains open.
Though the waking world is ripe with ideas waiting to be harvested, there are few places so sweetly laden with inspiration as our dreams. Such wonders spring forth to enchant our sleeping souls! The limits of the day slip off easily, and we are left to explore the infinite fascinations of the unconscious realm.
It was with some disappointment that I recently learned that nearly two thirds of people in the UK give up on their dream career by the time they are the tender age of twenty years. Many of these people - one in four to be precise - stated that they gave up due to a lack of confidence, while 31% stated that they didn't feel they had the right skills.
My design philosophy is rich, luxurious and desirable, in the sense of a woman see's it, wants it and has to have it. I want my name to associate with this feeling. I want my graduate collection to be on the same level as Haute Couture, when I design I want my clothes to be segmented with this category.
On Monday morning, 6 August, at approximately five minutes past ten a 30-year-old Italian will take to the track to compete in her very first Olympic Games. To the ranks of media her name will just be one of many on a list. Indeed when I tried to sell her story to the British press, they didn't have room to tell it.