In an effort to change tact I allowed myself to wander through a few good memories. While others around me cannot, nor do they desire to, see any of the positive qualities that are inherent within my psyche I can on occasion understand what they do not.
I ran into a memory of building sand castles through a news article. Something I have enjoyed since I was young. A form of sculpture that while its impermanence has something esthetically beautiful, as each life, or season, or flower blooming…also has a deep structural challenge to it…akin to architecture, set designs, and life. This led to another memory of a time when I was more agile, physically fit, and in truth pleasing to look at…without knowing this. I look back now and see, gratefully that I did not flaunt my looks.
A stranger, a gardener for a hotel, gave me a rose once because I had noticed the beauty of this one particular rose. My knowledge can be blamed on my parents for thier efforts in gardening.
A poem begins to spin its thread…and so off to work away from this dastardly machine. A nice composition book, pen, and quiet corner call out like the ocean at sunset…devote your minutes to me.