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Tuesday 30th January 2007.

I have sunk once more into the melancholy sadness found amongst the words, Forlorn Hope Regiment no doubt had i been a soldier during the English Civil War i would have probably been in the front rank,not to be beaten by flying lead simply the sombre grey sky would have haunted me to the thrust of ancient gargoyles pouring forth the pitter patter,in constant rain drops.I would have hung on dearly to the colours and no doubt been trodden in by hungry hooves during some wild charge still looking for the horizon that would tell me warmth and sunshine still existed for us mere peasants.I remember once in youth when the hair on my head wandered freely long and massed enough to pass for a girl; how i smile at that, this moment now and sigh.Then i walked home in the rain without my hood up and feeling the drizzle gather in my curls and drip a circus of thoughts until i arrived home tired but elated,i ask my self now as that moment finds away of arriving in my thoughts quite often..was i still madly in love then..was it even love..the world then looked so daunting yet so beautiful full of hope and wonder our..my..generation was going to do..!!! Yet the rain at this moment scuffs my boots to a sodden weariness in ranks beyond, so thick i cannot see forward from my regimental colours.
Even though i remain in the front rank still looking for the lost horizon and more so than any other time in my life feel as if i am fighting a rear guard action that will never end ever,each time i arrive at the crest the horizon lies beyond, the hand held above the eyes with a stare which tells all.I even forced myself to ride the silver steel bus last week to keep in touch with my nerves to keep the powder and shot dry even my companions Katee and dribble-cock are flaccid, the oyster will not release the pearl or i yet to find the key which slipped from my grasp perhaps if i hold the colours tightly the roaring wind will cease to tease the cannonade booming in my head from glimpses found in tossed up time wasters, all will be well....


( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Jan. 31st, 2007 03:44 pm (UTC)
Comfort Wishes
Open your precious heart to this life you've been given
Suffer no more by insisting with each breath that something (or everything) be different:
Better, sweeter, bigger, faster, slower... To infinity and beyond
Instead, whisper an invitation:
May I live at peace in my center
May I surrender to what is
On earth as it is in heaven
May I remember everything is already mine,
already here in my heart
May I be blessed to apprehend that I am the formless sacred mystery of Being
and the formless sacred mystery of Being
is me"

~~Jennifer Louden~~

"Everyday, think as you wake up, today I am fortunate to have woken up, I am alive, I have a precious human life, I am not going to waste it, I am going to use all my energies to develop myself. To expand my heart out to others, to achieve enlightenment for the benefit of all beings, I am going to have kind thoughts towards other, I am not going to get angry, or think badly about others. I am going to benefit others as much as I can."
~~ H. H. the 14th Dalai Lama~~

You did not ask for my thoughts, but the key to all of it is detaching from the outcome and remembering the cliche, "Life is a journey, not a destination", to which I would add, it's not just our life but the collective lives of all who came before and will come after us. The horizon changes with each decade because the journey goes on, even after we're gone from this earth, it goes on in spite of us. I find hope in that.

The thing about young love that makes it so sensational is the abandon we allow ourselves to lust, and love, hope, and joy, and faith, faith in soemthing or "someone" to hold it all together for us and not let it be in vain. When we fall in love with access that child within that believed in magic in spite of all else. We let maturity squelch that joyful abandon, til we find someone or something that makes the chemicals in our body go zing and zow! Nothing more intoxicating than falling in love. Do you remember stomping in puddles and getting totally soaked head to toe, water rising in your wellies? It was joy (until we got home and our mothers railed at us for the mess, inconvenience, and the death of cold we were sure to get!)
Stop thinking so much, it gets in the way of feeling and living!

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )



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