lighter than bright
stitched by day
brighter than night
our shadows fray
So far, growing up has been pretty easy. Primarily because I don’t remember a certain portion of my existence… and can only get a vague idea of what my early life was like through videos and photographs. I look in the mirror, and I look again. Everyday almost… I have seen slow changes. Small ones that I couldn’t have possibly detected. Physical ones, slow and gradual, then suddenly here I am. Technically and adult…and I can’t quite remember when I became me. There is a certain point in our life where we start to be coherent of the thing that hears our thoughts. I feel like I am something bigger, witnessing my brains processing, my thoughts, my feelings, my physical changes. Kind of like, when someone dies - we don’t mourn the loss of the body… we mourn the loss of that something else. Whether “I” am just a series of neurons firing at random and believing that I am something more than my body…or if I really am something else that hears my thoughts. In the spring I started a garden, and it captivated me in ways I didn’t expect. Mainly I have been the most interested in my sunflowers. There are so many similarities between us and sunflowers, or any other living thing on this earth - it makes my head spin. I mean - is it just a coincidence the way their roots spread out like veins (or the way rivers look just like veins from above) or the way a trees limbs grow…veins. It’s like - something cannot grow without the help of something else. Without a connection. Let’s fast forward into the future of my garden so that i can be a bit clearer. Think of it as stop motion - high speed….There is my hand. I am digging. I am planting a seed. The night falls the day comes. I water. The night comes the day falls. I water. There is a root, a vein. There are more. They spread. They take. I water. There is a stem. It grows. Then we are above the ground and a small green stem breaks through the surface and expands upward. I water. The leaves expand. The stem thickens and grows up. Then there is a bud. The bud swells and then blooms and wilted sunflower petals expand. I water. The sun beams, and the night comes. On and On. Seeds fall from the flower. Summer ends. The sunflowers die. The seeds begin to grow.
It’s such a process, so similar to that of our own lives. So in a way, growing is terrifying because it means we are closer to our own “winter”. But the thing that struck me most, was that - the seeds that the sunflowers shed, will grow in the soil that the original sunflowers will decay in and become a part of. So when the new seeds finally expand their roots. They will be pumping the old sunflowers through their little “veins”. They will grow from what they were. And when they die, they will return to what they were.
Finding love… depends on what type. Finding what I love…I believe it is one of the most vital things I can and will do in my life. Giving others love, IS the most vital thing I will do in my life. Receiving love, I have no control over. Between two people? I believe in it, but I believe in friends. When I finally decide that I have fallen in love with someone, it will be because they are completely and totally my best friend, and most importantly - can make me laugh. I think that it is completely possible to find love in a real way. I don’t believe it is possible to find love in any other way. I think that people spend too much time looking for a love that doesn’t exist. They ignore the masks that people put on, just so that they can pretend - just for a minute - that they have found the love that they see in movies. I don’t want that, because there is a love that is better than anything we read about, or see in films. It is pure and beautiful and it cannot be described in something as simple as words. That is the kind of love I believe in, the kind based off reality and truth. I believe that there is a connection that can’t be seen but can be made between two people, two friends, with an animal, with anything. It is like in that study where they put (I believe it was) 2 or 3 heart cells together and, they began to beat. Anything less than that, stood still. I think we as humans work the same way, we just have to find the those people. When we do, we will all just simply “beat” together. It will just work, if any of that makes sense.
reaching your potential.
I guess everything has a maximum point, or a certain.. plateau. So I guess I am no exception to that rule. I have a maximum potential, and I believe that one day I will reach it. The problem is, I don’t know if it will be obvious or not when I do so. I hope I don’t find out that I was already at my potential, just as I am beginning my decline. So because of that, I will most likely always strive for more, but at the same time - enjoy where I am “at”…because you never know if it’s about to get a whole lot better, or about to fall part. :)
Sometimes when I am trying to get things done, I will hear “Time is money!” in my head. It’s such a well known line, so commonly heard from the mouth of that stereotypical slave-driving boss in any story – and I am sure there are people out there who use this phrase in a serious manner, and somehow still expect to be taken seriously. I laugh when I hear it, I picture the two perfectly flat hands. One stays motionless, palm facing upward, while the other hits it repeatedly in a stiff chopping motion. It is as if we believe (or accept) that this bizarre gesture of the hands will somehow help emphasize our point, or drive our words deeper into the person whom we are shouting them at.
Time is money. The more I think about it, the more I see the profound statement that has been masked beneath years of misunderstanding, and our bewildering desire for urgency. “Time is Money” has fallen into the hands of a society who views instant gratification as a standard. What if we are completely missing the point? We overuse the phrase because we believe that it supports the ‘values’ of our society. Yet, I think in truth, it refutes everything we use it to promote.
If time is money. Then money is time. Extract the two subjects, and you will find time and money. This is all obvious, but how can we see how different something is if we don’t literally take it apart.
So we have time. It is a system man has created to better comprehend the passage of life. Minutes add up, hours add up, days add up, then you have years, and then you have a handful of them. Finally one day, our lives stop – we die. But yet somehow it makes more sense to us because we know it all adds up. This concept of time we have created is based off of the sun. It disappears at night, and it appears again in the day. We count these days, we mark them on calendars, we live by them – we need to. Time is a useful tool, but we cannot forget that it is only a tool. Outside of our human minds, time does not really exist in the same sense. We base time off of the sun’s disappearance, but we forget that the sun never goes away – we just can’t see it for awhile. Time is relative, and time is arbitrary.
Then we have money. Another system created by man, in order to accommodate the way our societies function. It is a symbol. Although some people do not truly earn their money, others do. To a person who works, and then receives pay – that money is a symbol of their work. When they go to buy food at the grocery store, they are paying with a symbol of their labour. In a way its like saying, “I am giving you 3 hours of my time in this small green rectangular paper – in exchange for a loaf of bread.” Money is a symbol, and money is arbitrary.
So if time is money, then they are both empty and meaningless. They exist only in our minds, and both contain absolutely no value in our world. We hurry around in our lives, trying to earn more money, in as little time as possible. We destroy our natural resources to print money which we then waste our precious time trying to obtain…
If only we could really listen to the words we are saying. It is to remind us of the futility of haste, but we are unconsciously using it to accelerate our demise. The message we desperately need to hear, is in the very phrase we use to drive ourselves towards a goal that will never be in sight.
Only after the last tree has been cut down, the last river has been poisoned, the last fish caught, only then will we find that money cannot be eaten.
always would be. It would never matter what anyone said, or how many times he was told to simply forget about it all and move on. There are just some things that we cannot move past, some memories are just - like quicksand. It always begins the same way. We are walking through our lives, not anticipating that the ground will give way beneath our feet. Not only willand for Pinkie – it was that night in the white barn somewhere past 192 W. Minister Avenue.