. . . to withstand these winds that bluster the soul. Holding still is no refuge from their blows. One most go inside, let the motion meet the home's protective walls.
What respite is there for me, though, if I am already "inside"? If this body is not steel or wood but flesh and blood, making my spirit vulnerable.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Monday, January 7, 2013
If I could . . .
. . . send a message through this starlit night, I would, and it would say that we are ever-earning degrees in all kinds of specialized topics ranging from kindness to real estate to jewelry-making to mentoring to first aid. We are ever-learning qualities and attaining knowledge vaster and more significant than any BA. If I could send a message through this starlit night, I would, and it would say please don't measure my significance or intelligence or capability by four years or six, please don't let that be the measure of my achievement or worth. For yes, there is a point to this missive sent beneath this starlit sky: the measure of a person is her mind, her heart, her actions and interactions, her choices, and the desires of her heart. The measure of a person is the person himself, and what he chooses to learn and read and be.
On this starlit night, I would deliver this message clear across the continent to you, if only I could fly. Then you would know what I know.
Oh, when will I earn wings? I need them now.
On this starlit night, I would deliver this message clear across the continent to you, if only I could fly. Then you would know what I know.
Oh, when will I earn wings? I need them now.
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