When the last day feels like an accomplishment, when the last day is a happy day, everything turns to cheerfulness for it being over. It is a happiness lacking guilt, a type of happiness which rarely comes my way. Relief. Enthusiasm for what is to come. The unexpected lurking in the letters of t-o-m-o-r-r-o-w.
When an accomplishment comes with pride it means you’ve credited yourself for the success. And when I feel proud of myself, I feel at peace with my inner shadows.
A toast to being able to live with ourselves ! (all of our selves)
Image source : http://goo.gl/5FGPOL
Pulling Alzheimer’s disease out of Pandora’s box and dropping it on Earth is like telling the people who eventually develop it that they’ve had lives not worth remembering. Which is a cynical attitude towards any human being. We are all afraid of being too easily, too rapidly forgotten. But to forget ourselves – our very selves – is a harsh, unfair punishment. It’s one ugly disorder that I dread!
Why do we love children so much? Why do we admire them? Why do we feel they are better than any adult? Why do we see them so perfectly complete and innocent?
They have no sense of censorship. Whatever they do, they do not analyse consequences, they do not care that they are seen naked, they manifest their joy when they are truly happy, they splash water because it’s fun and don’t feel guilty for getting somebody else wet, they hit and kick whatever is in their way when they have an angry or violent fit, they throw away without remorse things they no longer need, they fall asleep sitting when they are tired, they refuse to watch a cartoon they dislike… They have a certain freedom that derives from non-censorship that we (at most) envy, as we can no longer experience. They are as honest as human beings can ever be!
No, those were no butterflies in my stomach when I was in love with you; those were bad-ass dragons, biting off tiny bits of flesh from my heart. They left me bleeding and sore, but they enjoyed a flamingly exciting life inside me. When they passed away, they burned a little hole in one of my lungs. I know this for, now, when I breathe, I always have trouble taking in the air that no longer contains your presence.
You can divorce a husband or a wife. Can you divorce a sister or a brother? Can you erase them from your /present/ history?
“I have a sister I haven’t spoken to in almost 10 years.” I hear this and I tilt my head in amazement. The sister is hanging by the invisible blood thread, as a post scriptum to a story that developed on its own. It is forever there, the relative, the connection, the impossibility to deny an existence. A former partner, though, can easily be left among unknown shadows, shaking memories of long-ago.. What do we do with the family relations that we want to cut loose? We don’t mention them, but that doesn’t mean they simply go away, dissolve into non-words .. How do we elude genealogy?!
endless fields of white
lie before me
covered in hope –
there is little fright:
am I able to see,
am I going to cope
with what askes to be seen?
will I know what they mean
when words walk by
accross the field
of white paper?
What is there to celebrate? The time that has passed? The future that we hope is to come? The desires accomplished, the plans fulfilled? The dreams projected? The compliments you’ve been paid? The difference you’ve been told you make? The attention received since dusk?
I usually celebrate the fact that I am still here. Granted yet more time, never knowing how much or whether I am going to make any proper use of it. And that there is always someone to make a special wish, even if the person changes from year to year.