Booked two months in advance it was not the kind of place you get a table on impulse. Large mullioned windows with long embroidered curtains conquered the walls that were allied with a reflection of life that was framed with golden optimistic chains. Golden outlined glass tables followed through the restaurant that were embedded with the finest chosen flowers on each table, delicate live piano music played danced in the back ground on the flagstone tile floor. The lounge area with embroidered couches, oval coffee tables with splendidly proportioned cabriole legs, tea served from gold trays in white teapots.
“Excellent choice of restaurant” he grinned to myself.
“Loan Information for Existing Mortgages... Check…Flood Insurance… check…Hazard insurance… check. ...Homebuyer's Warranty…check…Power of solicitor… check… Conditions at Closing… check. Done” he smiled to himself and assembled the final paperwork on the table according to the most significant that needed to be discussed. He had a glance of himself from the mirror walls, fixed my navy blue tie, unbutton my grey suit and and crisped up my white collar

A I feel as though energy is being constantly drained out of me, as though I'm leaking electricity, i I looked around at the busy tables. An old couple eating side by side, one glass of wine each, studiously bent over their meals. A group of young women in their thirties collapsing with helpless giggles as a stern woman dining alone nearby looked on and frowned. More businessmen in their grey suits lighting up cigars. American tourists, trying to decipher the menu. A family and their teenage children. The noise level was high. The smoke level, too. But it didn’t bother me. I was used to it.
Black stubble rained onto the white porcelain. Each stroke of the razor made the speckles more dense and some tumbled to the linoleum. He watched smooth skin emerge and his transformation from his carefree vacation self into the work slave. This was the face that won promotions and headed board meetings, but he longed to hide behind the half-grown beard. He ran his hand over his naked chin and yearned for the day he could put away his razor for good.
This is the story that started the “be more with less” movement for me. While I knew all work and no play wasn’t the way, I thought I would forever be stuck in the cycle of working to live. I thought I would always have a car payment, credit card debt and not enough month at the end of the money. I thought I had to work harder to make more, buy more and have more. At one time, I really thought that would make me better somehow.

This story is my inspiration to slow down, reassess, and get real about how I want to live life.

An American investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.

The Mexican replied, “only a little while. The American then asked why didn’t he stay out longer and catch more fish? The