I think plans have their place. So does random. So does spontaneity. So does taking risk. Risk is not leaping off a building – that’s just insanity. Going into a relationship of any kind, now that’s risk taking.
Trusting that relationship to be safe, supportive and nurturing – only works if safe, supportive and nurturing is reciprocated. How can that happen? When does that happen? Rarely methinks, and when it does is it a match made of equals? Or un-equals?
These ingredients are tough enough in our relationship with our self, how could we expect to make it work with anyone else?
written / published from Calgary, AB
morning walk with Gusta: 10C/50F, clear, steady north breeze – horizon is a band of colour any painter’s palate would envy, Gusta trotted in fashion her dew-soggy coat is evidence of her belly-cooling tall grass wandering; silence except for the sound of the breeze … so soothing
I found the following thought provoking: "Pieces of me live in two daughters, two grandchildren. Piece of me lives in some good works, some good deeds, some good times. Piece of me lives in what I've meant to a few people, what I've left behind or given away. Piece of me lives in somebody doing something a particular way because I showed them - or because they saw me failing and said 'let's NOT do it that way'." Your comments on Gusta's walk are really neat as I too walk a dog in the early morning. Since I am such a lazy creature I must admit I enjoy your writing more when there are more complete sentences and linkages between ideas - like I said I'm lazy. Do not change your style for me, not that you would, as your fan base seems to like the "flow of consciousness" approach, A, Calgary, AB
Good morning Mark, This was thought provoking and elicited some really good internal dialogue … thanks, SF, Lethbridge, AB
Good Morning Mark. I am finding my life long habit of (what I am pleased to call) self-examination has now acquired a sort of urgency; as if that luxurious theoretical- "someday, one day, could, should"-has slipped into the past and been replaced by something dark, gigantic, and immovable. The only way to refuse this thing is to embrace it. In the narrative of my personal mythology, this forbidding and repulsive thing will then be transformed into something warmer, lighter, and perpetually manageable. Philosophically, I take comfort in the realization that this beast wears my own face. But I'm not a philosopher, or anything of the kind, EH, Calgary, AB