Peace signs in my eyes sometimes get in the way of my vision. For others, it maybe dollar signs. We all feel what’s important to us differently. There are as many ideologies as there are people to uphold them.
Love without Unity?
It’s been done before.
What of the many civil wars, not only in our country, but world-wide?
Brothers and sisters, friends and neighbors, husbands and wives– aligning with different sides.
How is it that humans having so much in common can be so definitely divided?
A test of strength for sure. it’s a wake-up call about the assumptions we make based on what we believe.
Strong belief does not guarantee Truth. Not even my own.
We all have a Path to walk.
My job is not to judge how you walk yours–my job is to keep putting one foot in front of the other as I determine my own.
Ah… back to baby steps.
Simple but not always easy.
Comfortably situated on a sturdy wooden park bench uptown, I watch the children play in the water-feature across the street, its foamy cascade, a sweet relief to the dog days that define late Summer. The effusion of flowers are just past full bloom, proudly touting seed pods and rose hips, having fulfilled their seasonal purpose in the circle of life. Brave stalks still reach toward the sun while others bow low, calling it a day, fulfilled and content with their place within the cycle.
But I’m a little wistful at the thought of winding down, as the season is sure to pass, changing my preferred lifestyle and of course, the clothes that I love best.
Still enamored by strappy tops and sleeveless-ness, I choose to ignore the body parts that seem to have deserted me, having fallen ungracefully towards gravity’s callous pull. My mirror and I have a love/hate relationship, so I am taking the path of least resistance by enlisting a dose of healthy denial–opting not to bemoan that which I do not see.
Personal style is an individual freedom that I foster. Developed from a whim, it becomes an exercise of creative expression. An art form, if only in my own mind, it is a liberty that I claim from having lived this long!
The setting sun is casting sky-blue-pink across my pervue, the sky, a gigantic canvas for celestial finger-paints of color and light. The cicadas seem to herald the day’s end, grateful to have lived another day or perhaps they are celebrating the passage into the coolness of the night. Their constancy is reassuring and reminds me of fresh mown hay on a still-life from my childhood when living seemed easier–or at least, less complex
There is a heady sweetness in the air coming from wave petunias, thick and luscious to the bees. A young woman has begun to trill a folk song across the way, her guitar the only accompaniment to her soulful lyrics, so clear and pure and hopeful.
And now it’s dark– that deep velvety blue, backlit from the sun just setting. I’ll go home now. Many Thanks for sharing your time and attention.