A fish on a hill went counting up to three, three steps to climb the hill, three strokes to reach the hill, three breaths to swim in that evening. I am counting up to three, three songs in repeat in my head, three strokes against the wall, three yawns in that evening, and still I am no fish, and not yet on the hill, but at least I can swim.
Hum… mind slowing down, life slowing down, learning slowing down… time for a sip of H2O, a sip of Humour, Horizon and Openness.
Of course it’s hanging there, that frustrating sensation that someone disrespected me. When disrespecting someone are we not simply disrespecting ourselves? When untrusting someone are we not simply untrusting ourselves? Giving in to our own fear in our lack of confidence and self-leadership? Oh, I just love it when things can be so simply turned around.
At times words are traps… they spin in your head weaving a web of insanity wrapping you up into a deadly cocoon. The worst is when they can’t even escape, except on paper or web, your voice deprived of the intended audience. The sound is not of silence, it is of the madness you are forced to carry, the interpretation, the un-trust, the fear of oneself, the lie, the lack of respect; a wide range of emotions as awkward as an ill-fitted coat… and a very heavy ill-fitted coat weighting down any of your actions with chains… chains incorrectly labelled as long as your voice stays a ghost I know the pain has two sides, the deception and the humanity. For nothing else would I swap the pain this evening. Behind it is the strength of the emotions I can carry, the strength of my convictions, the strength of the effort I can shoulder to remain true to my philosophy of life.
“Oh I can’t stand the routine” “oh everything is just about routine” “Knowing that tomorrow is going to have the same routine just kill me” hum… it’s funny how some things can get the worst out of us, and some can get the best out of us, and routine today, in my small conversation room, seems to get the worst out of people… while somewhere else in the world, I know people are struggling to get a sense of routine, a sense of stability. What if routine could become a foundation? Not a rock. Rocks are fixed and do not move, and routine should evolve and move with the evolution of our life. Rather like a good pair of shoes, or a strong bicycle, an easy to carry scooter, something to move us forward, and help us keep our brain healthy and in good shape.