I first saw you in a mighty forest among an endless sea of trees. Your leaves were backlit blushing red and though your beauty made time freeze I could hear you creak.
East of a little town and down out past the hedges and burrows and scarlet-veined ivy there are two tobacco brown rivers that slit the soil and as they roll off into a backdrop of innumerable golden bushels of wheat and grain and pebbled soybeans there lies a treasured slice of triangulated land that sways rhythmically and sweet beneath the swarms of larks and teals and red breasted mergansers and they all funnel into a conflux where starlings swirl and trails amalgamate and muddy waters gurgle…
Flow is a dance. It’s not surrender, but a willingness to be vulnerable. When flow happens, you are reaching a prolonged moment of perfection in which you are guided by something larger than logic.
In Self- Explorations:
We try to capture meaning, purpose and value from the essence that is constantly concentrating and dissolving before us. Meaning becomes a memory. Essence goes on to recreate.
Conversation is a beautiful gift that we have as humanity. It makes our relationships richer. It’s the way that we can express ourselves and share our inner world with another.
I imagined my grandfather sitting alone with the box in his lap, cranking it up to listen to the Music Box Dancer until those last three seconds slowed to a halt. The silence lingers, the song unfinished, forcing you to contemplate if you are satisfied with its incompleteness or if you want to crank it again.
I’ve encountered many books that I could not possibly part with; like strangers on the streets with gleaming eyes that reflect interesting and untold stories, a curiosity begs you to discover and explore those stories you are supposed to be a part of.