Archive for the ‘love’ Category
After finding the website, I Wrote This For You dot me, I immediately bought the book, of course — titled after the website: I Wrote This For You by Pleasefindthis. And in it, I found some of the most beautiful, raw snippets of thought prose. One of the passages that stands out to me right now is titled, “The Static On The Line”. It says,
Don’t talk to me like you know me. Talk to me like you love me.
Incredible, eh? So, why not? Why don’t we talk to people like we love them, like we adore them? Why are we often harshest to those we are closest with? He writes about this on his blog too, in a post titled “The Closeness of Shadows” where he says,
You still believe you’re allowed to hurt the people who love you more than anyone else.
Why is that? =/ That is so sad. Let’s stop, shall we?
And definitely, read the book and the website.
I could have written this myself… I did not but, I could have. It tastes like my words but I so rarely share my poetic side…
I found this place and love it. I wrote this for you…
When times get rough, the weather gets cold, when my heart gets broken, when there isn’t enough money, when someone lets me down… all I need is a good book and I will lose myself within a literary world of wonder. I love reading and all that has meant to me my entire life. I am lucky to have found such a passion for something in this world… I am lucky to have many such passions.
What are yours?
“Books are becoming everything to me. If I had at this moment any choice in life, I would bury myself in one of those immense libraries…and never pass a waking hour without a book before me.”
~ Thomas B. Macaulay
I love the frosted mornings and the every day excuses to wear scarves, particularly ones that my dear friend knitted for me. I love hats pulled over my ears, gloves and boots to stomp around. I love the thick socks and the second layer of blankets, hands cupped around warm tea or chocolate. I love the possibility of snow days with those I love. I love the natural inclination to read more during the winter and while everyone else is complaining about how cold this winter has been… I giggle to know it has only just begun. =) I love the early evenings and the late mornings where January covers you thick with resistance to leave your warm, comfortable bed. I love the cold floor that nips at your toes encouraging you to call in just one time… to stay home and read or relax with no concern to the duties of making a living. I love the almost permanent twilight all month long. The deep of January where you learn to feel comfortable in your own skin, wearing yourself like a worn in favorite sweater, completely erasing the pretensions and insecurities of summer’s overexposure. I love inhaling the crisp air and seeing my every exhale reminding us how magical and real life is…
I love the calm after the rush, rush, rush of the holidays. I love receiving misplaced Christmas cards sent in haste a day too late… but just in time to be set apart from all the others. I love the unique sound snow makes when you first walk on it and the palpable excitement when children realize it snowed the night before—eagerly dressing 4 times over to play all day! I love red noses and hands rubbing together. I love the wool and thick cottons, extra layers and blasts of heat when you first come in. I love the warm soups and the grilled cheese sandwiches. I love returning TV shows and reminiscing about yesteryear. I love the hope unique in January, the motivation that pushes so many to try and try again to be just a little bit better.
December is a wonderful month…what is NOT to love about it?
Snow. Santa Claus. Holly. Mistletoe. Christmas trees, oh! I do so love the evergreens and pine trees. Cookies baked fresh. Sweaters. Scarves hand knitted by my very dearest friend. Mittens and hats, that I wear often. My birthday. Candy canes. Blankets of frost. Christmas carolers. Christmas music! I love love love Christmas music! =) Peppermint hot chocolate. Warm teas. Wrapping presents. Giving. Love. Family. Friends. Good cheer. Pies. Stories read to me or by me. I love Winter Soltice which falls on the 21st or 22nd of December, this year it is December 21st. Long lines where you can meet the most interesting people. The crunch of the ice under my boots, and the cold or wet excuse to wear them!
December is good.
I remember as a child reading some piece of advice that stuck with me.
“Decide what you like in others, what kind of characteristics or qualities you find admirable or worthy, and then become the person you want to be accordingly.”
I made a list, a simple list back then, and decided I would do just that. Many of the things on the list I already was inherently. But some I had to work at. I did. I do. And I continue to revisit this list throughout my life and compare it to who I am at the time. It has become my own measuring stick of success.
I equate success with intangible things like being most of the things on my list, or positively affecting another person’s life. I measure success in quality of love and of laughter and listening. And I think this helps put things in perspective for me. It is only when I start to look to other measuring sticks to gauge my own success that I struggle with distorted self-images.
And I have to admit, that has been my problem for awhile. I have been trying to measure myself against a different standard, a standard I can never reach. So, I am revisiting the list and the girl I once was…who was so very intelligent and wonderful so many years ago, the girl who started the list. And I am going to ask…
What does she think about it all today?
And it is my guess she would still choose love and laughter and listening over dollars and promotions and constant new professional goals. She would choose people over things. She would choose living over accumulating. She would choose a good book over a movie or a TV program any day, any time. She would spend less time focused on all that she had done wrong and more time on what she can do right.
And so should I. So should I!
glued within a story I do not belong…
not one more day.
I want not to feel anchored pathetic
to someone else’s shore,
buoyed in its misery.
I want not to forget…
the contoured belly of hope,
to lay idle blurring into obscurity.
I want not to inhale…
the fetid decay of who I once was,
exhaling despair in every direction.
I want not to pick the carcass of love…
for anything worth keeping…
watching wishbones brittle,
waiting to get the bigger piece,
to be set free.