sprouting
It can be a frightening shock when you realize that you've lost faith in something that you previously thought impossible to shake. And before anyone get's their panties in a bind, I'm not talking about God or myself or anything so large (heh, I made a funny) but primarily about an idea. It can be frightening to a person when something that they once believed concrete and rooted in fact becomes loose in the soil of their minds.
This happened to me recently. Whilst lieing on my back, although not in a field of clover or anything so fairytail-ish. It was Sunday afternoon, and the weed that had sprouted and been pulled and sprouted time and again, returned - firmly planted itself in my soil. Then, I wondered when I first started considering this flower a weed. Dandelions are considered a weed afterall. Even though I think they are rather pretty. And tasty. And that they make a good prop when singing certain songs.
Mama had a baby and it's head popped off. . .
This flower danced in my breeze, as I thought a long time about who I am and what I am to other people and how I should react in this crazy world full of what we call life. And I suppose I came to a roundabout of sorts. I realized that I had not really grown out of this conundrum or changed positions at all. I had only gotten fairly good at ignoring my heart and shutting off my mind, although I liked to rely on certain poisons of our day. I also realized that I've grown rather tired of not listening to that still small voice, no matter how much pain and agitation it may cause me. I came to realize that my virtue was more important to me than my posterity, be it mental, emotional or physical.
And then I wept a bit, over all the nonsense. Flowers do need to be watered, afterall. And then I slept for a good minute. I imagine that I dreamt about that flower, wafting carelessly in my breeze, but I cannot say for certain.
This happened to me recently. Whilst lieing on my back, although not in a field of clover or anything so fairytail-ish. It was Sunday afternoon, and the weed that had sprouted and been pulled and sprouted time and again, returned - firmly planted itself in my soil. Then, I wondered when I first started considering this flower a weed. Dandelions are considered a weed afterall. Even though I think they are rather pretty. And tasty. And that they make a good prop when singing certain songs.
Mama had a baby and it's head popped off. . .
This flower danced in my breeze, as I thought a long time about who I am and what I am to other people and how I should react in this crazy world full of what we call life. And I suppose I came to a roundabout of sorts. I realized that I had not really grown out of this conundrum or changed positions at all. I had only gotten fairly good at ignoring my heart and shutting off my mind, although I liked to rely on certain poisons of our day. I also realized that I've grown rather tired of not listening to that still small voice, no matter how much pain and agitation it may cause me. I came to realize that my virtue was more important to me than my posterity, be it mental, emotional or physical.
And then I wept a bit, over all the nonsense. Flowers do need to be watered, afterall. And then I slept for a good minute. I imagine that I dreamt about that flower, wafting carelessly in my breeze, but I cannot say for certain.
posted by taliendo at
5:14 PM
1 Comments:
Thank You for sharing, to me it is a loss of faith. Not the God like faith, but, the child like faith. The faith that gives you drive( success is just in your grasp)
the power to imagine, and to see the wonder of the little things that so often bunch in the corners.
This inner child gives powers to the basic principal of the golden rule and finding good in the bad.
I guess it is the fuel of optimism? If this has nothing to do with what you were conveying, please disregard it with the trash.,
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