A subject I do not often write about is hope. Not to say that I am pessimistic. I do believe in a future and hope that it will be bright but in my opinion a tomorrow is not guaranteed. That is not to say that we should live each day carelessly. I believe that we should plan for a future but not be heartbroken if plans fall through.
Living each day mindfully and being present will allow you to embrace the future. Being stubborn and resisting the flow of life, only accepting certain outcomes is not a hopeful way to live. Being open to possibilities provides for endless hope. It will give you hope that there is a tomorrow even while you are in the present.
Its been an interesting two weeks back after coming back to school from spring break. Some things I though I lost but I'm now realizing that nothing ever really is. Things become transformed. Even the bad can turn into a lesson learned and in that way help one grow and understand themselves better. The "should have, could have, would have" doesn't belong in anybodies life because its done and happened. One can dwell and beat themselves up even more or one can face it, learn from it, and then let it go. With that I must let you all go until the next post.
What are these quick shots of warmth,
Fractals of forests
That wind through my limbs?
Fragrance of olive and salt taste of skin,
Razz-tazz and clackety sound?
Figures and shapes slowly wheel past my view,
Villas and deserts, distorted faces,
Children, my children —
Distant, the pink moons of my feet.
What rules do they follow?
I think movement, they wondrously move,
Moons flutter and shake.
I probe the hills and the ruts of my face —
Now I grow large, now
I grow small, as the waves
Of sensation break over my shore.
There, a gnarled tree I remember,
A stone vessel, the curve of a hill.
What is the hour?
Some silence still sleeps
In my small sleeping room —
Is it end or beginning?
I take up my pen, dry for some years.
What should I write? What should I think?
I knock on the door of the universe.
Here, this small villa, this table, this pen.
I ask the universe: What? and Why?
Now weakened, I must remake the world,
I knock on the door of the universe, asking:
What makes the lig…