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Happiness is in everything; I dare you to invite it in. It is in the rain, cool and fresh, just as deeply as the sunshine, for they bring forth different emotions. Happiness is enjoying the moment, being present for that gift that is living, and allowing it to become intense.
For me, there is something about chopping a home grown vegetable that soothes me to my soul; I listen to the sound as the knife cuts and then the metal meets the wood. I let my hands move slowly in the silence of the room, allowing random birdsong and windy gusts to infuse my mind. The earthy flavours develop an intensity, there is a burst of aroma with each cut and in the quietness within, I am happy.
Other times I burst with life in the joy of movement. I love to dance to vibrant music, loud and strong. I feel my limbs move with the beat, my mind enjoying the heady ride. There is something about cycling in the countryside, with or without music, in any weather, that invigorates me. There is part of this human animal that was born to move. To exert myself feels like freedom, there is pleasure in pushing myself to new levels. Yet to ride slow can be a chance to savour to the flow of the air the finer details of the trees, earth and birds. This is not the mantra to find the good in everything, not quite, for there are times of tragedy, but to enjoy what is good and to learn from the rest.
Pain is a chance to become more empathic, more sensitive to others in pain. Problems are an opportunity to innovate. In isolation we can think and let the creative mind spin new ideas. In unfulfilled expectations we can learn patience and understanding. In grief we can learn to cherish the gift of life each day. We can use our pain and fear to mature the mind and develop the soul. For how can the soul dance if it is hiding in the shadows? Thus, only the brave of heart can know true happiness. So, be bold, my love. Meet life as an equal.
There was a time that my thoughts became tormentors, a torture only escapable by sleep... which had become fleeting. But then I realized that if I never "replied," if I let them float by like a call unanswered, then in time they would cease. At first they became a little worse, yet soon they ebbed. One day I noticed they were gone and just the noticing brought them back a little, but only a faint echo of what they had been. They've been gone a long time now, those terrifying thoughts. My mind is quiet, healthy, happy. Just like any bully, they go when ignored.
When I see you, it's as if space and time become the finest point imaginable, as if time collapses into one tiny speck and explodes at light speed. It's as if my universe begins and ends with you. I could run forever, search forever, but in the end, every path leads right back to your heart and soul. I love you, always.
The sand is softly golden with just the right comforting warmth. To rest on the beach feels like a cosy hug, one only matched by the sunshine filled sky. Tom stretches out both arms and legs to look like a boy-starfish, his grin growing slowly into a broad smile. The only marker of time today is the sun above, the moments savoured by the waves that wash the sands in white lace.
My mother, looking like a disco ball in red lipstick and platinum hair, wearing her smile and her kind eyes, places the milk in the cart. We talk of my imaginary game and I tell her of her role, and mine and granny's and grandpa's. She puts on the paper crown I made her home and I giggle. Then I see the chocolate milk, I had some at a party once. I want it. I ask. She says no and I pout. But I know that tone means no in a way that's not play and she goes back to talking about our game. Suddenly I'm thinking of my character, how I want to be the bad guy this time. I practice my evil laugh. It's good.
We understand your mechanisms will defeat you, it is a simple matter of time. We are fully aware of how the duplicity of our language can be used against us, as are negations, allowing messages to our conscious and subconscious minds to be opposite.
We are aware that our cultures have lurched toward hedonism. We are aware that consumerism is destroying the Earth. We are aware that our cultures have been infected with the poison that the monetary system brought - greed, selfishness, vanity. We are aware that sloth is used as a lure, when indeed we should work with love in our hearts for the good of our world and one another. Our work should be our love made visible.
So, we are aware that you have corrupted our systems by using money and language. We are aware that money is the root of evil. We are aware that we cannot love God and money.
We choose God. We choose love. We choose cooperation, compassion, kindness and empathy. We choose life, nature and to regard our Earth and her life as sacred. We choose fraternity over power. We choose to let our money systems go and start a new world of equality and kindness.
Much hate and disrespect,
Human we call you for your silliness - so concerned with the "hue" of the man and rarely the kindness. Perhaps one day you will choose to be mankind in stead of this hue-man who walks the ground he pollutes and then asks to sustain him, wet with tears for the "cruelty of nature," of she who gave you life. Only with the innocence of child may we be found, after that you grow deaf and blind in the heart and mind. The doorway to our world is akin to a mirror for the energy of your spirit; come with anger and see visions of evil, come with a child's love and see a magical realm of beauty. This is how we stay safe.
The sun rose like a flower opening, gifting its petals unto the world. Amid the dancing raindrops was the blush of scarlet, the warmth of tangerine. Gazing toward the illuminated clouds, still beneath the ethereal glow, Calipso felt at home in a way she never had before.
There was something in that shout, a pain behind it. Lee watched. He watched Dean's eyes. Then he knew. The anger was nothing but a shield for pain, like a cornered soldier randomly throwing out grenades, scared for his life, lonely, desperate. He breathed in real slow. What if nothing blew up? What if there were no consequences? Wouldn't Dean have to calm down? Wouldn't the shield clatter to the ground and let the pain tumble out?
The seawall stands like a wave stuck in time, as if she yearns to join her watery brethren. She is the patient witness, a stillness next to the ever-moving wind, sea and clouds. She is a quietness beneath the cries of the birds, a sense of permanence in a place that changes by the moment. In the bright light of autumn, the low sun nurtures her colours, bringing them out like the hues of wave-kissed shell. She directs the eyes from the ocean to herself, to the clouds above and back down to the watery blue.
The sandcastle deepens in colour toward the rock it rests upon. Salt water trickles over the granite, painting dark rivers which quickly dry. I imagine that the sand is sweet caramel, that the grains are golden sugar, and that this is my birthday cake. It's the moment I savour each year, the intense expectation of joy. Cake is just cake, sand is just sand, either way the moment is steeped in love and I let my mind dwell there.