Sometimes as I am reading new books that are motivating me to do something new or progress in a certain area in my life, I get the overwhelming feeling of 'I have to do it now and be perfect at it now.' Am I alone in this thinking? I doubt it. I often have to force myself to take a step back, give myself grace and talk to myself like I would talk to a toddler. 😂 Learning is a process and so is growth. It is ok that it takes time. I won't be perfect right away but that should not prevent me from trying. The only way to get better is to start and make mistakes that I can learn from. Life lessons by Amy. 😅

We are so excited to have you here, and can't wait to get to know more about you and your creative goals! 👇Drop a comment on what writing or creative projects you hope to work this month, then check out the calendar for what we have coming up this week! Talk soon! Janna and the WorkKin Life™ Team

I Stood in Line By Kathleen Tonn It was a devastatingly long line. I didn’t think I could stand five minutes more. The blazing sun already laid down the dead. A singular quiet rested upon those of who were still on our feet. But we each knew, our bodies could be the next to be laid aside, so the line would continue to move an inch at a time. My friend’s body was removed from the line where he collapsed. He had not the strength to whisper good-bye. There were three lines, each separated by ten feet. The first line was served the least rotten food. Those in that line were the former billionaires and millionaires. The second line was for all the politicians and government workers. There food was already rotten with card carrying maggots. The third line, the line I am in, is for the rest of the starving. Our food didn’t even have maggots for protein. Our food was a bottle of water with a scoop of whey protein. Famine ravaged the land. The nuclear winter destroyed all the animals and plant life. What food we are getting is from storage. Storage that was created twenty years earlier. Canned goods that were ruptured with the blasts. Survival. What is survival? Most in line wish there bodies were already pushed to the side. Emaciated, none of us even look human. Those in the third line wore out their rage with those in the first- and second-line months ago. Just desserts! Now, their pride and arrogance has brought them as low as those of us in the third line. There is no pontificating, no mocking, no lying and no bullshit. In fact, more dead were removed from the first two lines than from the third line. They are dying four to our one. Perhaps there is both divine justice and karma.

A Horse Named Rod By Kathleen Tonn Friendships can be immediate or not at all. In the case of Rod and myself, it was the former. The Dallas Equestrian Center backed their horse trailer up to the front door of Trevor's barn. I stood at the back of the trailer as two young men exited the cab of the pickup. Both wore caps bearing the logo of the shelter. "He's ready for a new home. Thank you for taking him," said the driver as he unlocked the door of the horse trailer. As the door swung wide, the chestnut's hind quarters reflected the afternoon sun light. The shifting of his hooves clattered on the trailer's wooden slats. I stood to the side as the handler stepped inside to walk the horse backwards down the off-loading ramp. Carefully, he coaxed the chestnut out of the dark and into the light. The steady breeze ruffled the stallion's mane as he snorted. The driver handed me a clip board saying, "Please sign this receipt of acknowledgment that Rod was delivered. His medical records are in this envelope. The fire was a bad one, and he hasn't fully recovered from the trauma. The vet will be out to see him next Tuesday. Thank you again for taking him," with those words the driver climbed back into the cab and drove out of the yard. I held the rope tied around Rod's strong neck. Softly, I spoke to the injured animal. "I have apple slices for you," Trevor said, as he pulled them from his jacket pocket. He placed them on the flat of his hand beneath Rod's mouth. The scent of the apples reached the horse's nostrils. In moments, Rod was tasting their sweetness. I stroked his muzzle as he chewed. So soft and sensitive is a horse's nose. Quietly, we stood together in the sunlight. I made no demands on Rod. And, I determined I wouldn't make any demands on Rod until he wanted me to. A wounded, traumatized horse needs healing just as a wounded, traumatized human does. As Rod took in the scenery and scents around him, the Evergreens clover and barley in the nearby fields, I brushed him. I was in no rush, nor was he. Bonding occurs on many levels, and it's all built on trust and time.

Hey fam!! Our theme for February is "Enjoy the Journey", and throughout the month we will be discussing excerpts from our tri-fecta of 3 books: 📚 "The Big Leap" by Gay Hendricks 📚 "The Alchemist" by Paulo Coelho 📚 "The Midnight Unicorn" by Neil Reed 🎱 In the "Not Your Mother's Book Club" chat, we'd love to hear your suggestions on books, poetry, music, or quotes that tie into the monthly theme of Enjoy the Journey. 🎱 For those of you in the Premium Membership Tier, we'll have a kick-off on the first Tuesday of February, and a wrap-up on the last Tuesday of February to share our 🔑 K.E.Y. Takeaways from the month. 🎱 The more you contribute to community conversations, the more that you level up in WorkKin Life! So check out the leaderboard for bonuses that are unlocked at the higher levels 🔐