“Raise your words, not voice.
It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.” Rumi
Rumi your gentle words soft and accepting, invited me to write today. I wonder, will this help me escape the despair and the confusion slowly seeping in my worried mind?
I have a confession to make. I fear too much time has passed now, since I last wrote here.
See, while I kept busy in my everyday life, the years of blogging faded away, like an old Polaroid photo, yellowed, and bent at the corners, gathering dust in the discarded shoe-box tucked under the bed, of all the passions I do not pursue anymore.
So why bother, you ask? Good question…I do not have the answer to this yet. However one could say,
I am stubborn, and I refuse to yield into submission even though it might look like I do at times.
I guess I want to keep my mind busy doing something I love, rather than spend hours scrolling down on my phone, waiting for doom to unfold.
You’ve got to understand I’m not well equipped for doom, I guess no one really is!
My heart attack four years ago (heart-aversary in a just a few weeks), left me highly sensitive to stress, while teaching me something priceless. Life is precious and time is a volatile commodity no one can afford to waste. Being the recipient of what I consider a second chance, the situation we’re all living in now, is urging me to re-evaluate in depth, what truly matters to me.
So here I am.
Wanting to reignite the passions I used to have, craving once more for life’s simple pleasures that used to fill my heart with so energy and delight.
The joy I felt the day I took the photo of the rain falling on this empty picnic table. I remember laughing at the fact, all the condiment bottles were getting soaked, and I wondered how the wet salt was going to ever get dry again, (it rains a lot here in British Columbia).
The excitement I got from writing, spilling the cluttered thoughts in my head out on the screen. Choosing my words, changing them, forever tweaking the placement of a sentence used to bring me so much joy.
At this moment this feels so clumsy. I know in a few weeks it will feel like I never left, and in a few weeks more, I will feel stronger all together for having decided to go through with this challenge of placing myself in front of the blank screen.
I have decided I want to look at the world with the eyes of that little girl, I buried deep within.
She is ready, now is the time to wake her up.