At the end of the day, we are all alone. For some, this allows time for meditation and a cleansing. For others, it’s like a pot-hole. A vast empty space that jars the road ahead and leads your thoughts astray. Shock absorbers don’t make the bumps easier. There aren’t any. Your mind just spirals downward into a dark reality where the sun seems cloaked in sorrow and despair. A thousand times you’ve pulled yourself up and out of this place but when it begins you can’t imagine how or why.
But you must.
For as the day ends another begins, waiting to be created and hoping you have learned from the day before that silver linings are always there. A bit tarnished and in need of polish they rise up and make you reach beyond what surrounds you.
I am drenched in green and a healthy earth as I write this. It makes me realize how places choose their future. Mowing down Orchards for highways, calling it prosperity. Building cement cities, filling in the ocean so we may support other countries, taking the water from the farms and forests, calling it a necessity–for the people. We cannot go back in time and stop those who destroyed the land. We are those people.
We shouldn’t close the borders to stop people from immigrating to this country, we should close them to protect what is left of our land.
Put the health of our land first and it will feed your health.
And the pot-holes? All roads have them. Slow down and they won’t seem as deep.
Plant a Victory Garden. No matter how small; it will help feed the earth.
Yay! Another season begins! And I’m alive!
Kicks imaginary leaves from the pile I just raked up in my head.
I guess that’s why sunrise if so blooming late.
The good part is the chill on the morning breeze and crispness in the air after four days of humid swelter.
Mother Nature has a standard of excellence. Damn the torpedos and full speed ahead into Fall.
We all should live this way.
There are a million quotes on when the going gets tough the tough get going.
The populous test nature’s resilience every day. She will survive.
Will we? Will you?
It’s not about plastic bags or straws; it’s about every part of everything. Co-existing.
Something we can’t even do with our personal beliefs. How do we expect to save a planet that we can’t even agree on how the planet should be let to exist. We want all people to be the same. We want. We want. We want.
Be like us, not you, you’re wrong.
Be whatever you want or what you need to be to be happy.
(Unless this entails murder.)
I watched, Emeril Eats the World, the most ridiculous title for a show in a long time, last night.
The episode in South Korea. Where he travels to meet Jeong Kwan, a Zen Buddhist nun and the show evolves to something special. A spiritual journey.
.Listen to what the nun says.
This day is yours to live.
I blogged about my friend who died the morning I left on a retreat. Last week, The Welshman’s mother passed. She was a complicated person and minimally nice. Nice is a strong word to use, but she was never kind. Still, The Welshman’s mother died. An abused child doesn’t think of the abuse when their parent dies, especially when age has weakened the sting.
His grieving has helped me understand mine but that is not what I am writing about.
I am writing about his.
He came home from work early and just wanted to relax. I took him for a drive up the coast much like you’d take your dog out for some good deep breaths f air and relaxation. He felt better but exhausted. Grief is exhausting. mind numbingly so.
Now he has a cold of sorts. He never catches colds. The cold is his way of handling grief. I believe it allows him to be weak. Something his mother beat out of him at a very young age and his father fostered by being weak.
I wish there was a pillow that absorbed grief and took one off to sleep in a land of good memories and happy endings. I wish there was a blanket of dreams that washed away grief, taking it away in great waves like those created by a storm over the ocean. I want the soft sand to sift away the remainder of pain and become sand castles of hope.
The future will be bright again one day for The Welshman. One only hopes the wait isn’t long. He deserves to rid himself of this cold and inhale deeply of the fresh new air of tomorrow.