29 October 2015

tenth of a blip

Bedecked now in thick socks and sweater, huddled under covers with candle going on the sill -- these sweaty days of summer seem far off. But weren't so long ago really. A blip in the history of the world, no, not even a blip, not even a tenth of a blip.

I like seasons.

And I am trying to live more fully in them. Not longing for ones gone...or to come.

I do not want, anymore, to feel a certain feeling (which I manufacture) which is the sense of being penultimate. Of being in some purgatorial stage of almost-being, almost-having, almost-arriving. That this is the next-to-last and the next one is It. Is defining. Or worse: did I pass It without noticing?

What contentment is found there? None. No, no. You won't find it there. Because it doesn't live there, in that some-other-place

-- and neither do you.


  1. Hmm. Good point! We can only live in the present. Cliche to say, but it really is the "journey" and not the destination. Thanks for the advice. Cute photos ^_^

  2. These words. I needed them. Bless you. also, you are the cutest human around.