Lines are important measures that we place before us to ensure we reach beyond ourselves and get where we need to be. Often the best course is one that says there is the goal move towards it day after day with persistence and patience until you have crossed it. I am reminded of the marathon runners who take on the challenge of the race not for the possibility of winning but simply for the joy of the race or the thrill of competition. They finish hours behind the winners and are no less delighted in having achieved a goal they set out to meet. I am in awe of such individuals for they have a persistence and focus that I truly lack. Often I am reminded of the sprinter in me that darts off on a race down a track here or there and then is suddenly walking or sleeping off to the side of the road. Life is a marathon I am reminded time and time again so remember to pace yourself and set goals that are just beyond your fingertips to reach.
The early morning choruses play out symphonically from one tree to another as I wander in the un-kept garden. I have neglected my place for a couple of weeks with all the rushing here and there to get one thing or another taken care of before the journey and now after as I have taken on the challenge of a cough and a sniffle. I despise colds in winter they take away from the pleasant wanderings of the mind by a warm fire. In spring and summer they are a torrent of agony stuffing the head with pressure and the mind with a thousand other things I would rather be doing that nursing this refuge of germs. I listen intently to the singing and remember that all things come for a reason and they all pass in time, such as my mood and the present state of my physical hue. By the end of this holiday weekend it will all pass over unto the past and be forgotten. I struggle with the lantern light as it us before the mantel of June. Already the summer wave approaches and I ready for the swell.
Homes have charm and a certain flare that we impart to them. In my mind it does not matter what style or age a home is, it is what we put there that defines it as our home. Certainly we have styles that are more to our liking. I have never owned one that I especially loved that suited my idea of a home. If given my dream it would be older, more rustic then modern, more small cozy rooms that invite the wanderer in for a spell to sit and have time to wonder. There would be those large rooms that can be filled by family when the need arises and a large fireplace to read before when the weather turns colder. As I grow older I would like all of this on one floor so that I can remain here until such time that I fall into a deeper and more resounding sleep. One should love their home I suspect and when I finally find one that I do I will read Joyce in its confines and marvel at the style that has become me.
The art of decoration defies me. I simply cannot imagine the combination of colors that arrive at my home and make sense in the design. That is the way of things with marriages I think. Our talents are shared and somehow we come out as being better for it. Some tasks are more traditional and some we defy the traditions and do what we can. As much as I would enjoy breaking down the design barrier and dazzling those in the family I am sure my concepts would not come to bear that type of response. Perhaps it will take some more time a few more decades of instruction and patience on my part until I will feel comfortable or perhaps I never will. Spring cleaning is upon us and we have to get there eventually.
Persistent patience or pressure to perform can create issues or so I am told daily by the commercial televisions who wish to sell me some kind of drug or another to deal with what we can joyously embrace as life. While a desire to get a task accomplished is wonderful and exciting as the days approach realize that the need is an internal one set as a means to reach a goal you desire. If you pardon my strange metaphor it is like making love it takes time and patience to achieve the desired result that you wish. Sure you can have sex whenever you wish and toss about and find that enjoyable butt it lacks something. What you are seeking is the long passionate kiss that rolls into a very long and enjoyable evening into a night filled with sighs and expressions of the madness that when you are though takes your breath away and leaves you panting for more and your mind filled with a flood of the deepest emotions. That is the performance you wish to consider at least in my mind as being worthy of your time and effort. Anything less seems to me to be well a desire to get it done and out of the way. Is it sex you desire to let off some steam and release the pressure or is it your desire to create something more. I sense that it is the something more that you are stirring on about.
Boredom is a pastime of being tired and fatigue with time. Boredom happens when we measure time in the smallest of increments and pay very close attention to the passing of those increments. Second after second going by and then another and another until we are exhausted by the speed of time. I prefer to embrace time as a magical design that spins my world around and upside down. If I am bored it is of my own making and therefore the opposite is of my own making. Lots to do and plenty of time to get it all accomplished.
We heal when we heal, though I will say that in general when we fail to heal as we should, there maybe other factors to consider. We are all unique in our [physical hue and some heal faster than others and of course slower is just the opposite of that butt when we double the norm perhaps another opinion is deserved. Just because someone is a doctor does not make them an expert at anything. In fact doctors are at the basic core humans and they miscalculate and misdiagnose a lot. Check it out completely in your own mind and ask the questions that are there to be asked. Another voice is always good to hear.
All things have a purpose even if we are not sure what that purpose is. There is a place for everything we have and we should put everything into its place. Male logic is refined to straights and narrows and geometrical conformity. We like clear lines of site and things put away neatly so we can get what we need when we need it. A man thinks in terms of food drink and something naked. A woman however thinks in alternatives and threads. Food is what to make how to make it and with whom shall we share it. Drink follows the same trend but also adds should it be wine and if so which kind suits the meal best and should we entertain or not. As for the naked part, I am not so sure woman get there easily. They are more alluring, enticing and like to hide the sway of their hips behind the curtain and only reveal what is there when the curtain is pulled back by blind desire. Oh my two references to sex in one set of thoughts. Men think in progressions toward an end. Women think in terms of the results at the end. How we get there to a man is logical and is a connection of points. To a woman how we get there is by degrees as important as what we get when we get there. I hope that sheds some mud on the question, for I am confused now myself.
There does arrive a moment when our children do see us in a new light. At one point we are their parents with all the ideas of parents and then suddenly once they get out in the world and see the differences they change. We hug it is a strange thing to see our families hugging one another male and female all around in greetings and in partings. Suddenly the days seem calmer and more focused. We know what we know and we are aware of the next generation taking on the world. Suddenly we are people in the crowd and they are the wonder of what is yet to be. I enjoy the thought of grown children laughing together with us in a celebration of the times we have had. We are not done growing up yet but at least we have gotten them to the point where they over stand that.