Autumn wind. Orion rising from black fields in leather sandals and loin cloth taking aim. An angry 15 year old girl scrapes her pen across another spiral notebook. Notice me. Notice me. Notice me.
I’ve never been saved but for my words and the ones who took the time to read. I’ve never been burned, but for the situations I’ve put myself in. I believe in the power of self and doing. I believe in love. I believe in knowing.
There is no church in my bones, but the church of living, of recognizing time with its power to change. There will always be forgiveness.
My daughters heal me where I hadn’t known there were scars. A rejection. Excitement. Enthusiasm. Crushing determination. We reach out, always reach out to new unknowns. I don’t believe in endings.
There’s a Shel Silverstein poem:
I went to find the pot of gold
That’s waiting where the rainbow ends.
I searched and searched and searched and searched
And searched and searched, and then–
There it was, deep in the grass,
Under an old and twisty bough.
It’s mine, it’s mine, it’s mine at last…
What do I search for now?
There have been times in life I’ve felt like this, pinning all of myself on plans, goals, wants, one day or another. The day eventually comes. the event is had. The vows are taken. The baby is born. And then.
And then life is lived again and again. We circle ourselves crossing over from person to person, event and birth and death, dinners and breakfasts and dirty dishes. This is what is amazing, that we move forward, one direction or another despite ourselves.
Another thought on success–Always starting, always daring to begin.
And always, always believe in something.
What do you believe? Tell me everything.