Saturday, April 4, 2015

4 April 2015

The things that brought me the most comfort now were too small to list. Raspberries in cream. Sparrows with cocked heads. Shadows of bare limbs making for sidewalk filigrees. Roses past their prime with their petals loose about them. The shouts of children at play in the neighborhood, Ginger Rogers on the black-and-white screen.   [Elizabeth Berg, The Year of Pleasures]

I used to BElieve that comfort was BEyond my reach. I figured out, early on in Life, that neither this World, nor the “people in charge” really gave a fig about my comfort. And I have to say, this often made me act less than caring, and even unkind.

Now it’s all different. Of course. How could it BE otherwise?!

It seems like all the time people are making themselves themselves, but they don't really know it. You can only have true visions when you look behind. A person can slide so fast into being something they never really intended. I wonder if you can truly resurrect your own self.   [Elizabeth Berg]

It seems to me that I am making “more” of everything. NOT mountains out of mole hills “more,” rather the sensible “more.” I know that Life unfolds at its own pace, and I understand some of the yet-to-unfold pieces over which I have no sway.


I love you, Currie


Rita said...

The percentage of sway we actually have is pretty small...shockingly small. That's why we spend so much time attempting to have control over as much as possible. Less scary, I guess. But when we realize how truly fragile life fleeting...that is when we are able to experience the awe of being alive...and gratitude...and the overwhelming beauty of tiny moments. :)

Carol said...

My brain is not working his week... mush and more mush is all there is of it. I try to come up with a worthy reply and nothing happens. Know that I am constantly thinking of you and Sending LOVE AND STRENGTH & HEALING OF SPIRIT.