Saturday, November 3, 2012


Often, I don't need answers. If I desire an answer to a question or a doubt, I ask for it, I'm not shy about what I truly want. Lately I find that I hadn't been able to ask for answers because the answers to my certain questions or statements have always been obvious. Instead of hearing the words, I hear and feel the orchestra of feelings, those very soul-tearing, gut-wrenching feelings bouncing up and around, inside and about. Afraid to face my reality as dismal as it may and probably does seem to others, I grow inward. I'm branching out inside myself, learning the stillness of growing things. Getting used to the green, growing things. Fresh things. Things inside taking root and expanding. My answers lie inside me, have always been there. Now I learn silence. Stillness. The quietude of the tremendous energy of green, fresh things requires solitary contemplation and solitary movement. Do trees look back on their sapling era and laugh at that one bittersweet romance with the passing spring wind that left the sapling broken at the time, but which had helped it grow into a beautifully shaped tree? Would I look back at this period of much confusion and yearning, and laugh? Or would I heave with uncontrollable sobs? Will I have retained the peace I learnt during this period, will I carry all this forth? I never needed answers from people. All the answers have always been inside me. Things are as they are. No more, no less.

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