All these branches of learning grow from the same tree, and if you join them up in that brilliant head of yours, it is all the simpler to find truth and new ways forward. So let that innate curiosity lead you, even if the path feels chaotic, for in truth it is how we build those links. It is how we find that all these branches are saying the same things and asking the same questions. Yet, when we find common answers found in completely different ways, we are on solid ground. So love, in a moment, close your eyes; imagine all of your thoughts as the most magnificent tree, the most beautiful and strong tree there has ever been. Then weave from branch to branch bright ribbons of green, for this is how your brain will grow, becoming the creative funfair it was always destined to be.
Creativity is the antidote to mental inflexibility - the hallmark of war, intolerance, hatred. Through creative endeavours in the arts we keep our minds open. We can play music, tell stories, paint, dance, act, sing. We can be spontaneous, laugh, keep our souls light, our minds functioning as our creator intended. The divine is creative and so should we be also, only working on what brings us love and joy. Each of us is born to follow our own unique bread-crumb-trail of ideas, taking us on to our own individual in-born purpose, be that in art, mathematics or science. It is when we become the angels of our better natures that our own path shines, that we see where our next footfalls should go. Then we walk with confidence, proud to be ourselves.
Our creativity brings our dreams to life; inspiring, enchanting, bringing us closer to God. In art our spirits rise, in stories we are enthralled and elevated. With creativity we make connections between disparate people, we learn that through our many lenses we are seeing the same whole, only the path before our feet is still blurred.
As the seasons came and went the avenue changed it's colour palate. In the fall it was all about red, the winter brought brown and white, while the warmer months were simply green with splashes of summer blooms. The trees were lined up like an advance guard, Jenny liked that. She imagined they were soldiers frozen in time, their boughs at the ready, but then she loved Tolkien more than most. Rain or shine she let her fingers brush agains their gnarled trunks on the way to her morning bus, there was something about the feel, something of the earth. But no matter the time of year the traffic stayed the same, a procession of cars with drivers focusing only on their destination rather than the journey. Jenny wondered if they even noticed the leafy guardians about them, ever raised their eyes from the weary tarmac.
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