(The last entry transcribed from my journal.)
I've always thought of "peace" as sort of synonymous with "still". And I don't mean still as in quiet and restful and whispering, the way a breeze is still. More like stagnant, unfluid, heavy, constant... the way a mucky, algae-infested pond is still.
I realise this sounds screwy when said aloud (or written as the case may be), but there it is. I've always thought that the concept of meditation, for example, was an awfully dull practice... like just sort of plopping yourself in that muck and waiting for the algae to gather on you.
Instead I think I've decided that Peace is more like street lights on water.
Dancing and yet constant, fluid and yet repetitious, unwavering and yet ethereal, fluttering and yet persistent in the way that light is always persistent in piercing a dark space.
Or something like that.
2 comments:
I carry your heart with me
(I carry it in my heart)
I am never without it
(anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)
I told you once that you had this grand way of speaking, that when you were having a brilliant thought of yours, you get this look on your face and this tone to your voice that just dares people to question you because you were ready with something equally brilliant.
My dear, it may not seem as though I'm reading this and right there with you, but I have been from day one. I'm proud of you, immensely so, and miss you, even more, and love you, most of all.
Hey, it worked!
I know, I know...this isn't that hard, right?
I saw empty fields that needed filling and so I ran screaming in the other direction. hee.
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