Years Passing By…

October 26, 2015

A conversation with a stranger put the mind to thinking. Under ten years ago the location was one of clean mountains and fresh air. Was there hope, yes. Today, hope is different. Mountains  aren’t as plentiful, but that’s alright for now. Most important is being where one lives. Not only in body, but in mind and spirit as well. When living inside your head there is so much lost time in the real world. Looking upon the landscape one tends to see what’s missing. The” if only’s” add up to great figures in the ledger. The debits far outweigh the assets. Simple daily routines can be comforting. Predictability is not boring if done with a right attitude. This is an acquired skill in some of us. Life is fleeting even if it gives you 100 years of full capacity living.

Getting outside of one’s thoughts and into the surrounding world in which you live can give a sense of purpose. Raking leaves in Fall, smelling the fresh snow if you happen to have it in your geographic area, simply looking out to the vast skies when stars wink and blink at you from the dark shaded covering can give you a sense of belonging. Right here. Right now. Go forth and LIVE.

Another Saturday…

April 27, 2013

Years pass by. Days are long. Life is short. The older I become the more I understand I know nothing. I see through my lens and adjust accordingly through others, but in the end it is still mine. All the motivational materials in whatever form are still outside of myself. I am inside somewhere. Deeper than this temporary body. Created by something far more magnificent than anything I can even begin to imagine. Life is now.

in sixteen days. Years ago birthdays meant presents and fun. They snuck up on you and yelled,  ‘Surprise!’ like some secret party that you were already aware of and yet had to pretend to be caught off guard.

Now they come often, with a matter-of-fact approach. Whispering every quarter, ‘Gosh, only x more months and you’ll be that age.’

I listen. 

My ducks aren’t all in a row on anything. Some are missing, misplaced and generally not at attention. These days writing is therapeutic.

Many years have passed. Some things are resolved I think, others are not so clear. Mostly it is learning to accept my lot in life.

I live a life that is day to day. In truth, I have no idea who I am. Roles are played that the day calls for. It is the only way I know. Shakespeare said something of the sort. My script was written for a set number of acts and then my portion of the play will be finished. Times of happiness, as well as sorrow and sadness. All in a play. All in a life.