Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Remembering
I miss catching Miriam's eye from across the room and exchanging quick grins. Her smile used to catch me by surprise, but it was contagious and open, so I smiled back.
In a way, Miriam taught me how to smile. To smile is to share your inner joy with the world outside of yourself, whether or not if there is another person to receive and return that smile.
Sharing is a way of multiplying happiness, exponentially. To see the joy you yourself feel, in another's eyes, is truly rewarding.
It doesn't seem like a lot of people really understand this concept, we are taught to share as children, but we learn to do it because we have to, children aren't really taught the true beauty of sharing. It takes a while to realize that sharing really is more fun than not sharing.
Do we forget this as adults, or does school train it out of us? Sharing, somehow, somewhere, becomes a reluctant act. It doesn't only apply to things, our possessions, but also to our thoughts and feelings. We don't really share ourselves, our true selves. The inner light that yearns to shine forth but instead gets shoved into the closet in favor of a false light.
Miriam wasn't afraid to share that inner light, perhaps she never learned not to share it. Her smile was like the sun, I often think of the song "you are my sunshine" whenever I think of her and her beautiful family.
I miss catching Miriam's eye from across the room and exchanging quick grins. Every person you meet and come to know and love changes you in some way, I used to be frugal with eye contact and my smile, but now, the best thing in the world is to catch someone's eye to see their face light up.
In a way, Miriam taught me how to smile. To smile is to share your inner joy with the world outside of yourself, whether or not if there is another person to receive and return that smile.
Sharing is a way of multiplying happiness, exponentially. To see the joy you yourself feel, in another's eyes, is truly rewarding.
It doesn't seem like a lot of people really understand this concept, we are taught to share as children, but we learn to do it because we have to, children aren't really taught the true beauty of sharing. It takes a while to realize that sharing really is more fun than not sharing.
Do we forget this as adults, or does school train it out of us? Sharing, somehow, somewhere, becomes a reluctant act. It doesn't only apply to things, our possessions, but also to our thoughts and feelings. We don't really share ourselves, our true selves. The inner light that yearns to shine forth but instead gets shoved into the closet in favor of a false light.
Miriam wasn't afraid to share that inner light, perhaps she never learned not to share it. Her smile was like the sun, I often think of the song "you are my sunshine" whenever I think of her and her beautiful family.
I miss catching Miriam's eye from across the room and exchanging quick grins. Every person you meet and come to know and love changes you in some way, I used to be frugal with eye contact and my smile, but now, the best thing in the world is to catch someone's eye to see their face light up.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Compassion Revolution
Wouldn't that be nice?
Just a thought from me mum and Raven.
Quite a while ago, in fact.
Just a thought from me mum and Raven.
Quite a while ago, in fact.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Patience
What was stolen may come 'round
What was lost may may be found
Full circle is a complex shape.
Jul 10 11:12 pm
What was lost may may be found
Full circle is a complex shape.
Jul 10 11:12 pm
Struggling to Articulate
Pathways in memory
Recorded in the mind, but experienced in the physical world,
Walking among the ghosts of our past selves
On the paths we've taken, consciously or not,
Thoughtful or ignorant.
Sometimes I'll stumble upon my own pathway of thought,
And sometimes I watch the people in my past dart and weave in the yard of my present,
The two never quite mingling,
Like a projection upon a white sheet in the wind.
I remember a night in the daytime,
Many children of varied ages where now there is only one small girl,
Wild-haired in the sandbox.
Half of conversation is remembering,
Half of the world forgetting.
Recorded in the mind, but experienced in the physical world,
Walking among the ghosts of our past selves
On the paths we've taken, consciously or not,
Thoughtful or ignorant.
Sometimes I'll stumble upon my own pathway of thought,
And sometimes I watch the people in my past dart and weave in the yard of my present,
The two never quite mingling,
Like a projection upon a white sheet in the wind.
I remember a night in the daytime,
Many children of varied ages where now there is only one small girl,
Wild-haired in the sandbox.
Half of conversation is remembering,
Half of the world forgetting.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Who am I?
I feel almost like a different person when I'm deliriously happy from when I'm down on the world.
Is there an undercurrent of sadness? Or is my contemplative self too critical and demanding?
I'm still me when I do stupid things, I'm still me when I'm happy and loud. It's not like I always have to be thoughtful and quiet, I can be both, perhaps even at the same time.
To be detached, but still involved; down and dirty with time and events. I want to plunge my arms into the used wash water that is the world, but something holds me back; I'm a Stargirl, but I can't say the things I want to say, can't seem to do the things I want to do.
I am learning; on a journey, if you will. Evolving, growing, living. Learning so much about the world and people and the force I call god, though I'm searching for a better name.
Who am I? I'm me, always me, even if that never really stays the same for long.
I feel almost like a different person when I'm deliriously happy from when I'm down on the world.
Is there an undercurrent of sadness? Or is my contemplative self too critical and demanding?
I'm still me when I do stupid things, I'm still me when I'm happy and loud. It's not like I always have to be thoughtful and quiet, I can be both, perhaps even at the same time.
To be detached, but still involved; down and dirty with time and events. I want to plunge my arms into the used wash water that is the world, but something holds me back; I'm a Stargirl, but I can't say the things I want to say, can't seem to do the things I want to do.
I am learning; on a journey, if you will. Evolving, growing, living. Learning so much about the world and people and the force I call god, though I'm searching for a better name.
Who am I? I'm me, always me, even if that never really stays the same for long.
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